Temptation of the Dark Mark
by jtaylor
Summary: Harry Potter has returned to the Dursleys for one last summer. He doesn't know what is happening to him his patience is gone, he feels the viciousness coming on and doesn't know what to do...then he meets and American woman, who befriends him. They set
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Endless Summer

She saw the boy sitting on a swing in the park. He looked lonely and sad. The sky was grey and darkness was coming on. She had noticed him often sitting there since she moved to Privet Drive. This young man with the tousled, dark hair tugged on her heartstrings. Determined, Jordan decided to go over to him and see if she could help.

"Are you alright?" Jordan sat on a swing next to him. He didn't look up at first, but finally, he realized someone was there.

"Oh, erm—yeah, yes, thank you. I'm fine."

She noticed a jagged scar on his head and instantly felt that something terrible must have happened to him at one time. "I'm Jordan. I just moved here."

"You're—you're American!" His voice rose as if he'd never heard an American speak before.

"Yes, I'm a writer, here to give some lectures on my books. I'm renting a house down the street for the next few weeks. You must live around here, right? I see you here almost every time I take my walk."

"Oh, yes, number 4—I live at Number 4. Harry—I mean, I'm Harry Potter." He shook her hand and felt his stomach do a flip. Her eyes were a deep blue and they seemed to sparkle as the moon began to rise. Was she a witch? Her hair was dark brown and cascaded down her back. She was older than he was—he could tell that right off. But never had anyone spoken to him in all the nights of all the summers he'd spent with the Dursleys, his aunt, uncle and cousin who he lived with and who reluctantly promised to take care of him after his parents were killed by the dark Lord Voldemort. Well, his cousin Dudley and his rodent friends all took turns hitting him, kicking him and tripping him whenever they had the chance. Each summer, it became increasingly harder and harder to stay there and he had just been contemplating disobeying the promise he made to his school headmaster—Professor Dumbeldore—to stay with the Dursleys just this one last summer…and then she arrived. She might be worth sticking around.

"What's wrong?" Jordan noticed he became quiet and just stared.

"N-nothing…I'm sorry. You-you just appeared, I mean, I never saw you before."

"I really didn't appear. The street is so quiet, and I lose myself writing sometimes, so I like to go out for a walk. Normally, it's around this time and I see you almost every time I do. Well, you looked so sad today…" Jordan didn't finish. Truth was, boy or not, he had an underlying sense of maturity, like he'd seen so much already he might as well have been a man. "Do you want to walk with me? I'll understand if you don't."

"No," Harry said almost too quickly. He absent-mindedly tried to smooth his black hair, straightened his glasses and fixed his shirt all as he jumped from the swing. "I'd like that."

Jordan weaved around a puddle and they turned from Privet Drive to Magnolia Road, both silent. She wanted to ask him what was wrong and didn't know why she was nosing into his business. So she kept quiet.

"Do you like it here?" He finally asked, hands in his jeans pockets.

"Yes, I do. I miss America, though. What about you? Do you like it here? Have you always lived here?"

Harry didn't know what to say. He hated living with the Dursleys, but didn't want her to feel sorry for him. Still, he didn't want to lie either. "Well, no, honestly, I don't. I have lived here as long as I can remember, but I go away to school so that helps. My-my parents died when I was young and I was sent here to live with my aunt and uncle."

Jordan stopped, "I'm so sorry, Harry. Really I am."

Tears nearly came to his eyes, so surprised he was by this stranger's kindness and sincerity. Her face was flawless, porcelain and those eyes were boring into him. The precipitation made her hair curl up a bit, not quite as curly as his best friend, Hermione, but in beautiful, messy waves. She was slim, but not skinny and she wore a t-shirt that fit her really well. "It's alright. I didn't know them, but people who did told me a lot about them, so I feel I knew them."

"Well, that's good. I thought maybe that's why you were so upset back at the park."

Harry looked down. His temper tantrum earlier when Uncle Vernon slapped Harry after dinner (causing him to run out of the house), must have still been visible on his face when he was sitting on the swing. He wanted to kill Uncle Vernon. It had been a ridiculous argument, just one more time the Dursleys made Harry feel unloved and unwelcome. Why it continued to bother him after all this time, he didn't know. But as he grew older and felt a little more confident about his abilities and power, he came closer and closer to disobeying the rules with no cares about consequence.

"No, I—well, it's a long story really."

"This is me." Jordan gestured to a small brick house with a short driveway and white shutters. "Would you like some tea?"

His heart raced. She was inviting him inside. This beautiful woman was asking him to come into her house. "Yes."

"Well, come on in." Unlocking the door and turning on the lights, she put out her hand to welcome him inside. Boxes were pushed up against the walls, some still filled with books and linens, others empty, waiting to be broken down and put against the curb.

Her living room was an elegant blue and yellow, with china he imagined a king and queen to have lined in a cherry hutch in the corner. He eyed the staircase and blushed when he thought her bedroom must be up there. She didn't seem to notice though and took off her denim jacket and said over her shoulder, "Make yourself at home, Harry. I'll be right back."

He smiled as he sat down; thinking that Ron would be green with envy, if he knew this older woman had taken a fancy to Harry. Hermione and Ron were a couple now, but this was something different. Jordan had to like him. Why would she invite him inside?

She soon came back out with a tray. On it were two mugs of steaming tea and a plate of cookies. He took a mug, smiled at her and then she sat opposite him in a large off-white chair. "So, Harry, tell me about school. What grade are you in?"

"I graduate this year."

"Congratulations!"

He smiled, "Thanks! I can't wait, really, but I love my school. It's really been my home over the past seven years."

"Seven years? Is it a boarding school?"

He nodded, taking a bite of the cookie. Harry washed the bite down with tea and then began to tell her as much as he could about Hogwarts without revealing that it was a school for witches and wizards. "I am also the captain of the school Quid—um, football team."

"You? Really?" Jordan thought this boy was too slender to be head of a football team, but then remembered she was in Europe where football was equivalent to soccer. "That's right…fantastic. You must be very fast."

Harry stifled a laugh as he was the fastest flier the school had seen in a hundred years. He knew she wasn't talking about broomsticks, though. "Yes, I am. I may even go professional, if a team will have me."

"Wow!"

Harry noticed the clock on her fireplace mantle and knew he had to leave before Uncle Vernon locked him out of the house. He wanted to send Hedwig with a note to the Burrow, Ron's house, to let him know about Jordan. "Miss Taylor…"

Jordan laughed, "Jordan…"

"Right, Jordan. I have to go. I'm sorry, I'd like to stay, but they lock the door to my house in a few minutes and I'll get stuck outside all night."

"Do they?" She was indignant. "Really? That's abuse!"

"It's alright. I mean, I'm alright, I'm fine. Well, thanks for the tea and cookies, and the talk."

"Take care, Harry."

Harry ran home and slipped inside just as Uncle Vernon closed the door. Neither spoke to the other, Harry patting his pocket as if he would draw his magic wand any moment, then went to his bedroom and locked the door.

He pulled out a quill and a piece of parchment and wrote a note to his best friend, Ron. The red-haired Weasleys were the closest to family he ever had--except for Ron's sister Ginny, whom he grew to like very much last school year. He hoped that when his final meeting with Lord Voldemort, the most powerful of the Dark wizards, was over, that he and Ginny could begin to see each other as boyfriend and girlfriend. But was there a chance for him to see this woman? She must have been in her late 20s. She couldn't have been any older than that. There wasn't that great an age difference…

"Quiet, Hedwig!" He hissed to his white owl, who was flapping her wings, eager to get out and fly. "If Uncle Vernon catches you, he'll make sure he has you for dinner!"

Harry watched Hedwig fly toward the moon, which was nearly full, with his letter to Ron. Then Harry took off his glasses and put a hand to the jagged scar on his forehead. The scar throbbed constantly since his last run in with Voldemort—or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as everyone else called him. It was as if he had a perpetual headache. Closing his eyes, he imagined Jordan Taylor, and telling her his secrets. It would feel good to tell someone who was muggle-born.

Chapter Two

Time for Truth

When Harry awoke, sat up in bed, stretched and then put on his glasses, he wanted to jump up and head out to find Jordan Taylor immediately. What had hit him so hard? He remembered feeling cold and clammy when he first really looked at Cho Chang, the Gryffindor House Quidditch Chaser, during his fourth year at Hogwarts. Then his stomach did flips and his vision became blurry when he suddenly realized in his sixth year that he had feelings for Ron's younger sister Ginny. Ginny always had a crush on "the famous Harry Potter" as most girls at the school did. His scar, his constant brushes with death and disaster and the most recent title of "Chosen One" had certainly earned him a fan club, but mostly Harry was a shy teenager.

But Harry couldn't get Jordan Taylor out of his mind. Did he have a chance with her? She was a foreigner, seemed very lonely and grateful for his company. He only had a few weeks left before he returned to Hogwarts (his bags had been packed already for days), so he felt he had nothing to lose if he showed up at Jordan's door that night.

He stayed in his room all day, waiting for word from Ron. Hermione was probably already at the Burrow, especially now that they were a couple. That irked him more each time he thought of it. He didn't begrudge either of them happiness—he just felt very odd man out knowing they were boyfriend and girlfriend like they would have secrets that he could never understand.

Aunt Petunia was in the kitchen when Harry came downstairs. He had changed from his pajamas into jeans and a t-shirt, and said nothing to her or to his fat cousin Dudley, who was munching away on bacon and eggs when Harry appeared. He preferred if the entire family thought he would snap at a moment's notice, just as he had when he blew up his Uncle's sister to the size of a small blimp a couple of years before. The only person in the family who didn't seem to care if he was miserable to Harry was Uncle Vernon himself. It didn't matter that Professor Dumbledore had warned Vernon that he would be watched if he continued his abuse of Harry.

"Good morning, Harry." Petunia said, forcing herself to smile.

"Mornin'." Harry turned around with two pieces of toast and a slice of bacon on a paper towel, and went back to his room. Hedwig was waiting on Harry's bed (he had left the window open) when he arrived. Eagerly, he untied the parchment from Hedwig's leg and gave him the rest of the bacon. Hedwig zoomed back into his cage after nipping his owner's hand lightly.

_Harry:_

_Wow! An older woman! How old is she? Is she really that beautiful? Tell me, mate—are you going to talk to her again? Let me know all the details. We're having a good time here and can't wait until you arrive. Hermione says hi—okay, everyone does. I won't tell Ginny about Miss Taylor. She'll be upset. See you soon! Ron_

Harry smiled. He knew Ron'd be impressed. He spent the afternoon reading up on Quidditch, the Wizarding game that included a seeker (himself) trying to find the golden snitch while Chasers get the Quaffle through one of the 3 hoops for points, as Keepers throw dangerous Bludgers at players on the opposite team. When it started to get dark, Harry skipped supper and headed outside. She said she usually walked around 8:00pm, so he wanted to be sure she was in her house, writing, when he arrived.

He had tried to comb his unruly hair. He had washed up, shaved and changed from his t-shirt into a white button down shirt, the kind he wore at Hogwarts. He felt he looked pretty good, but was still nervous enough not to have an appetite. All afternoon, it had been nagging at him that she might have a boyfriend. She could tell him to leave or be angry at his presumptuousness.

He turned down Magnolia Road and tried to steady his breathing. It wasn't raining anymore, but it was still quite humid and he didn't want to get to her house all sweaty. One light was on upstairs and he smiled, knowing somehow that she was writing.

"Hold on!" She called, coming down the stairs after he knocked.

She opened the door, and then smiled when she saw Harry. "Harry Potter!"

"Am I bothering you?"

"No, I could use a break. Would you like to come in now that you're here?"

He looked down, wanting to scream in joy, but taking a deep breath instead. "Unless you'd like to walk first?"

She didn't answer, but instead grabbed her keys from the hook on the wall, closed the door behind them and headed toward the park. Without even realizing it, he took her hand and steered her the other way. "No, this way, if it's okay. I don't want to go near my house."

Jordan was startled that he touched her hand, "Oh, okay, sure." She let him hold on, not sure what was happening.

They strode in silence. Harry was in heaven. He was holding her hand; something that he hadn't even done before except with Hermione but that didn't count. Oh, and he thought he might have with Luna Lovegood once at a holiday party the previous year thrown by Professor Slugworth.

"Harry…" Jordan began quietly.

His heart jumped, "Yes?"

"I am a writer, you know…"

"Yes, you told me. How is it coming?"

"Good, thanks. Being a writer makes me good at research."

He was wary now. "Yes…"

"Harry, I read your parents died a very violent death. Did you know that?"

He dropped her hand and stopped walking, "How did you…?"

"It was strange, when I moved into the house, on a top shelf of one of the closets upstairs was a newspaper that I had never heard of. It was called _The Daily Prophet_. I didn't do much with it since I've been so busy. This afternoon I decided to look at it."

Harry felt dizzy for a moment. How did she—a Muggle—get hold of a wizard newspaper? Did the pictures move for her? Did she have witch blood in her? Many people did. It was common knowledge that wizards and witches walked among regular people and many children only found out they could do magic when they received the letter they were to report for school at Hogwarts—Harry among them.

There was a park bench nearby and so he went to it and sat down heavily on it. "Go on."

Jordan sat down next to him, "I read something about your parents being killed when you were very young—by some mass murderer. It talked about a scar—there, on your forehead. That scar." Jordan touched the scar and it seared with pain.

Harry doubled over, touching his head. What was going on?

"Harry! Harry! What's the matter? My God, I'm sorry." She stood up, looking around, unsure whether she should go to find help. "Are you alright?"

The pain was subsiding and he surreptitiously wiped his watering eyes. It had to be a coincidence. Memories perhaps, memories needing to be siphoned off into a pensieve, memories threatening to overflow. He let her touch his shoulders, help him to straighten up. She had kneeled down in front of him. "I'm okay. Just-just a headache."

"I'd better go. I shouldn't have brought it up."

He held on to her arms. "No, really, I'm okay."

"It's true then?"

"Yes, it is. He tried to kill me, but only left me with the scar."

"You must have been in the hospital for a long time to get a scar like that."

Harry only nodded. She obviously didn't know everything. She didn't know that the scar hurt Lord Voldemort more than him. The scar now was his warning that the dark lord was nearby.

"Come on, Harry." Jordan didn't like how pale he looked. "Come back to my house for some tea."

They walked along in silence back to her small, brick house. Jordan felt terrible for having put the boy through so much pain. It was truly none of her business—but she was confused by what was in the newspaper and thought maybe he could shed some light on what the words she read meant. _Muggle…Hogwarts…Imperious Curse…Dark Mark._

Harry felt as good as new by the time Jordan gave him the cup of tea, but he let her fuss over him. She was stunning in her black turtleneck and long skirt. She could have passed for a seventh year herself. He wondered if he should tell her. He knew it was breaking the very wizarding laws that separated the Muggles from the Wizards, but somehow, he wanted to be honest with her, gain her confidence.

"Jordan?"

"Yes? Do you feel better?"

"Yes, thanks. I-um, I wondered if I could show you something."

She finished fixing her tea and sat across from him. "Sure."

He took the wand out of his jacket pocket and held it in front of him. His hands were trembling and he saw the confused look on her face. "_Lumos!_".

She gasped as the end of the wand grew bright with light."That's amazing!" She beamed. "How did you do that?"

"I learned it in school. _Accio Sugar!_" He said next and the sugar bowl came flying at him. Jordan jumped back out of her chair when she saw that particular move and he couldn't help but laugh. She must have felt the way he did the first time he saw Hagrid perform his magic in front of Harry and the Dursleys that day so long ago in the rock hut.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Magic, Jordan. There's something I want to tell you."


	2. Chapter 2 through 10

Chapter Two

Time for Truth

When Harry awoke, stretched and then put on his glasses, he wanted to jump up and head out to find Jordan Taylor immediately. Helaughed at his excitement. He remembered feeling cold and clammy when he first really looked at Cho Chang, a rival Quidditch player at Hogwarts, during his fourth year. Then his stomach did flips and his vision became blurry when he suddenly realized in his sixth year that he had feelings for Ron's younger sister Ginny. Ginny always had a crush on "the famous Harry Potter" as most girls at the school did. His scar, his constant brushes with death and disaster and the most recent title of "Chosen One" had certainly earned him a fan club, but mostly Harry was a shy teenager.

But Harry couldn't get Jordan Taylor out of his mind. Did he have a chance with her? She was a foreigner, seemed very lonely and grateful for his company. He only had a few days left before he left the Dursleys forever; first to visit the Burrow, the Weasley's modest but comfortable house, to attend Ron's brother's wedding and then to avenge the death of Albus Dumbledore, how, he did not know yet…so he felt he had nothing to lose if he showed up at Jordan's door that night.

He stayed in his room all day, waiting for word from Ron. Why hadn't he heard from him? Hermione was probably already at the Burrow, especially now that they were a couple. That irked him more each time he thought of it. He didn't begrudge either of them happiness—he just felt very "odd man out" knowing they were boyfriend and girlfriend like they would have secrets that he could never understand.

Aunt Petunia was in the kitchen when Harry came downstairs. He had changed from his pajamas into jeans and a t-shirt, and said nothing to her or to his fat cousin Dudley, who was munching away on bacon and eggs when Harry appeared. He preferred if the entire family thought he would snap at a moment's notice, just as he had when he blew up his Uncle's sister to the size of a small blimp a couple of years before. The only person in the family who didn't seem to care if he was miserable to Harry was Uncle Vernon. It didn't matter that Professor Dumbledore had warned Vernon that he would be watched if he continued his abuse of Harry. Then again, Professor Dumbledore was dead, so what he had ordered probably meant very little to his uncle.

"Good morning, Harry." Petunia said, forcing herself to smile.

"Mornin'." Harry turned around with two pieces of toast and a slice of bacon on a paper towel, and went back to his room. Hedwig was waiting on Harry's bed (he had left the window open) when he arrived. Eagerly, he untied the parchment from Hedwig's leg and gave him the rest of the bacon. Hedwig zoomed back into his cage after nipping his owner's hand lightly.

_Harry:_

_Wow! An older woman! How old is she? Is she really that beautiful? Tell me, mate—are you going to talk to her again? Let me know all the details. We're having a good time here and can't wait until you arrive. Hermione says hi—okay, everyone does. See you soon! Ron_

Harry smiled. He knew Ron'd be impressed. He spent the afternoon reading up on Quidditch, the Wizarding game that included a Seeker (himself) trying to find the golden snitch while a number of Chasers sent a ball (Quaffle) hurtling through one of the 3 hoops for points. All the while, Keepers throw dangerous Bludgers at players on the opposite team to keep them from scoring.

When it started to get dark, Harry skipped supper and headed outside. Jordan had said she usually walked around 8:00pm, so he wanted to be sure she was in her house, writing, when he arrived.

He had tried to comb his unruly hair. He had washed up, shaved and changed from his t-shirt into a white button down shirt, the kind he wore at Hogwarts. He felt he looked pretty good, but was still nervous enough not to have an appetite. All afternoon, it had been nagging at him that she might have a boyfriend. All afternoon, he worried she would tell him to leave or be angry at his presumptuousness. Harry had not had this much enthusiasm in him since the horrific events a few weeks back, and knowing that his most hated enemies, Severus Snape and Lord Voldemort were still on the loose.

He turned down Magnolia Road and tried to steady his breathing. It wasn't raining anymore, but it was still quite humid and he didn't want to get to her house all sweaty. One light was on upstairs and he smiled, knowing somehow that she was writing.

"Hold on!" She called, coming down the stairs after he knocked.

She opened the door, and then smiled when she saw Harry. "Harry Potter!"

"Am I bothering you?"

"No, I could use a break. Would you like to come in now that you're here?"

He looked down, wanting to scream in joy, but took a deep breath instead. "Unless you'd like to walk first?"

She didn't answer, but instead grabbed her keys from the hook on the wall, closed the door behind them and headed toward the park. Without even realizing it, he took her hand and steered her in the other direction. "No, this way, if it's okay. I don't want to go near my house."

Jordan was startled that he touched her hand, "Oh, okay, sure." She let him hold on, not sure what was happening.

They strode in silence. Harry was in heaven. He was holding her hand; something that he hadn't ever done before except with Hermione but that didn't count. Oh, and he thought he might have with Luna Lovegood once at a holiday party the previous year thrown by Professor Slugworth.

"Harry…" Jordan began quietly.

His heart jumped, "Yes?"

"I am a writer, you know…"

"Yes, you told me. How is it coming?"

"Good, thanks. Harry, being a writer makes me good at research."

He was wary now. "Yes…"

"I read your parents died a very violent death. Did they?"

He dropped her hand and stopped walking, "How did you…?"

"It was strange…when I moved into the house, on a top shelf in one of the closets upstairs was a newspaper that I had never heard of. It's called _The Daily Prophet_. I haven't done much with it since I've been so busy, but this afternoon I decided to look at it."

Harry felt dizzy for a moment. How did she—a Muggle—get hold of a wizard newspaper? Did the pictures move for her? Did she have magic in her? Many people did. It was common knowledge that wizards and witches walked among regular people and many children only found out they could do magic when they received the letter they were to report for school at Hogwarts—Harry among them.

There was a park bench nearby and so he went to it and satheavily. "Go on."

Jordan satnext to him, "I read something about your parents being killed when you were very young—by some mass murderer. It talked about a scar—there, on your forehead. That scar." Jordan touched the scar and it seared with pain.

Harry doubled over, touching his head. _What was going on?_

"Harry! Harry! What's the matter? My God, I'm sorry." She stood, looking around, unsure whether she should go to find help. "Are you alright?"

The pain was subsiding and he surreptitiously wiped his watering eyes. It had to be a coincidence. Memories perhaps, memories needing to be siphoned off into a pensieve, memories threatening to overflow. He let her touch his shoulders, help him to straighten up. He noticed she was now in front of him. "I'm okay. Just-just a headache."

"I'd better go. I shouldn't have brought it up."

He held on to her arms. "No, really, I'm okay."

"It's true then?"

"Yes, it is. He tried to kill me, but only left me with the scar."

"You must have been in the hospital for a long time to get a scar like that."

Harry only nodded. She obviously didn't know everything. She didn't know that the scar hurt Lord Voldemort more than him. The scar now was his warning that the Dark Lord was nearby. So why did it hurt so much when she had touched it?

"Come on, Harry." Jordan didn't like how pale he looked. "Come back to my house for some tea."

They walked along in silence back to her small, brick house. Jordan felt terrible for having put the boy through so much pain. It was truly none of her business—but she was confused by what was in that newspaper and thought maybe he could shed some light on what the words she read meant. _Muggle…Hogwarts…Imperious Curse…Dark Mark._

Harry felt better, stronger, by the time Jordan gave him the cup of tea, but he let her fuss over him. She was stunningand could have passed for a seventh year herself. He wondered if he should tell her the truth. He knew it was breaking the very laws that separated the Muggles from the Wizards, but somehow he wanted to be honest with her. He had desperately been looking for someone to confide in since he had lost Dumbledore.

"Jordan?"

"Yes? Do you feel better?"

"Yes, thanks. I-um, I wondered if I could show you something."

She finished fixing her tea and sat across from him. "Sure."

He took the wand out of his jacket pocket and held it in front of him. His hands were trembling and he saw the confused look on her face. "_Lumos!_"

She gasped as the end of the wand grew bright with light. "That's amazing!" She beamed. "How did you do that?"

"I learned it in school. _Accio Sugar!_" He said next and the sugar bowl flew toward him. Jordan jumped back out of her chair and he couldn't help but laugh. She must have felt the way he did the first time he saw Hagrid perform his magic in frontthe Dursleys that day so long ago in the rock hut.

"What are you doing?" She said.

"Magic. Jordan, there's something I want to tell you."

Chapter Three

Muggle Sighting

Jordan didn't know whether she believed everything Harry Potter told her that night. The magic tricks were hard to explain, but she found herself increasingly attracted by his story—his amazing story. She didn't think he had revealed everything about himself. The writer in her knew there were gaps in the sequence of events, but he seemed grateful to be able to get it all out, so she hadn't interrupted.

It seemed a chore to get her feet to move up the stairs. As she reached her bedroom, she kicked off her shoes and prepared to take a shower. The hot water ran over her, soothing the tensions she didn't even realized she had, and pieces of Harry's story came back.

Harry Potter hadn't known he possessed magic. He had been living with his aunt and uncle since he was a baby. The scar on his head, he found later, came from the man that had tried to kill him, after the man killed his mother and father. When he had been 11, he received notice that he was to report to a boarding school for magicchildren called Hogwarts. It was in Europe and a special train left from a special platform once a year, in September, to take him there. He had made a lot of friends—and a lot of enemies—in that school.

He had been through a lot, because it seemed that the man who tried to kill him was intent on finishing the job and Little Whinging, where Harry and Jordan lived, hadn't been a stranger to dangerous witch and wizard sightings. To end his story with a flourish, Harry lit up the end of his wand again (which he carried everywhere he went now), put the sugar back on the coffee table and caused the radio to turn on.

Jordan toweled herself off, put on her pajamas and was just getting into bed when the telephone rang. She answered it and was surprised when it was Harry.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, Harry, I'm fine."

"Either you are still letting it all sink in or you don't believe me."

"I don't know what I believe. It does explain that crazy newspaper though."

"I could show you a lot more, if you'd let me."

"Harry, I don't know…"

"Can I call you tomorrow?" Harry asked hopefully.

Jordan began to realize, wild tales or not, this boy had a crush on her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It wouldn't be good to keep this up—it would only hurt him. "It's not a good idea, Harry."

"I said too much, didn't I?"

She could sense the terrible disappointment in his voice, "No, no, it's not that…I just have a meeting in London with my editor. That's all. I won't be around."

He sounded deflated. "I understand."

"I'm sorry, Harry. Goodnight."

All the next day, Jordan couldn't stop thinking about the story the boy told. She sat in her editor's office, getting her lecture schedule and wondering how Harry could have survived. The scar obviously wasn't fake; something terrible had happened, but was this elaborate tale a call for attention? Was he so lonely and so abused, he was making up stories to have someone to talk to?

How did the sugar bowl move to him? Why did the pictures in _The Daily Prophet_ move? Could he really fly on a broomstick? It was strange. Surreal. Crazy. There was more Harry said he wanted to show her, but said he could get in trouble performing magic. Underage wizardry could get him arrested. She laughed without meaning to. It sounded so ridiculous!

"What is it, Jordan?"

She snapped out of her reverie. "Oh, nothing, Nigel. Are we all set?"

"Yes. I'll have Stella call you a couple days before the first lecture and we'll arrange transportation."

Jordan left the wood paneled office and headed down the busy London street. Taking the tube to Little Whinging, she prepared to walk to her little rented house, when something made her to turn up Privet Drive. What if she caught him in his house, lounging in front of the television set, eating popcorn with his mom, dad, three brothers and the family dog? Then she could put the whole crazy thing to rest once and for all. He would be just a kid looking for attention.

Number 4 Privet Drive was dark except for one dim porch light. The house was well-kept and looked a normal, middle class home. A great begonia bush lined the front and there was a bay window that flickered with the light from the television inside.

Jordan rang the doorbell.

"Hold on, I'm coming!" said a loud voice.

The door opened and a very large boy, about Harry's age, stood there. He didn't smile, didn't even say hello, just looked at her as though she was going to try and sell him something.

"Is-is Harry home?"

Harry heard the door from his bedroom upstairs. He looked out the window and nearly screamed when he saw her. What did she want? His heart lurched. Surely, she wouldn't tell his uncle he had performed magic at her house. He'd be soundly beaten for that. Should he go downstairs? Should he wait? He stood in his room between the door and window, not sure at all what he should do. He decided to brush his teeth and fix his hair.

"Dad! Some lady's here to see Harry!" The fat boy bellowed down the hallway.

"Probably the police!" another man said, with a deep, gruff voice. "What does she want with him?"

The boy didn't ask, but waited, figuring she had heard the conversation thusfar. "I'd like to speak with him. I'm not the police. Um, I'm a writer and I'm doing a story and well, we talked in the park the other day and…"

"Dad! She's a reporter and American!"

"Oh, hell! I'll be right there!"

Jordan felt increasingly uneasy and was beginning to see why Harry would be lonely. This family had no manners. She wanted to leave.

Perhaps he wasn't even home. "It's alright. He's obviously not here. I'll just go…"

"No, Jordan. Here I am!" Harry had decided to come downstairs, thinking his uncle's wrath was worthgetting thechance to talk to her.

Jordan bent down a little and looked up the stairs. At the same time, another man, an older version of the fat boy at the door, came lumbering into the hallway. "Harry, get upstairs you useless piece of trash!"

"Don't you speak to him that way!" Jordan willed herself to be quiet, mind her own business, but she couldn't help herself. "I'll have Social Services here so fast…"

"What do you want, Miss?" The man quieted down a bit at her threat.

"I want to complete the interview I began earlier--with Harry. I have a deadline. Surely, you won't miss him for a couple of hours."

"He's not allowed out of the house after a certain time, Miss. Surely, you can understand curfews."

"It's 8:30, sir and summer holiday. He's nearly 17—old enough to be out until at least 9."

"Are you making fun of me?" The man's voice got loud again.

"No, sir. I'm just trying to reason with you. Of course, if you'd like me to include you in my article…Many people will be reading it and I doubt it would look favorably on you. A man with your obvious intelligence, risking his reputation with the press…"

He sputtered and coughed at the suggestion he might be thought of in a bad light and waved his hand. "Come on, boy. Finish this little project you have going."

Harry took the rest of the stairs two at a time. As Jordan turned to leave, his uncle grabbed him by his shirt and held him back. "Don't embarrass me boy or I'll beat you so hard you won't be able to go back to that ridiculous school of yours."

Harry pulled away, praying that Jordan hadn't heard. He didn't want her feeling sorry for him. But the brisk way she walked away from his house told him that she had.

He grabbed her arm and slowed her down when they reached the park. "Don't worry about him. Hey, Jordan, I'm sorry."

"You? Why?"

"Well, I know Dudley and Uncle Vernon made you angry. They well, they…"

"You can't go back there. They know about your—magic?"

"Yes. They refuse to have anything to do with me because of it. Sometimes I can understand. Why bring the wrath of Lord Voldemort down on them? But the first 10 years I lived there, I slept in a closet under the stairs."

"Harry..." Before she knew it, she pulled the boy in for a hug. "I can call someone. You can be taken out of there, put somewhere safe."

He moved away from her. "I can't. There are people watching out for me. If I leave, it will make things harder for them."

"Who is watching out for you? And how can they possibly leave you there?"

Harry turned away and sat on his swing, the only one now on the set that wasn't broken. Almost every night he asked _himself_ how they could leave him there. It had been hard enough the first six years he attended Hogwarts, but this year, with his godfather Sirius dead and now Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts and the only true adult friend he had ever had, dead at the hands of his former Potions teacher, Severus Snape, it was almost impossible to stay still. He wanted to kill, more than he ever had before. The anger grew every day. Maybe she was right. To hell with them all. He could take care of himself against Voldemort. He always had.

"Harry?"

He shook his head. "Maybe you're right."

"Do you want me to call someone? From my house?"

"You don't have to call anyone. But I'd like to go to your house. To think this through."

"Harry, I can't let you run away. You have to have somewhere to go."

"I do." He thought of his friend Ron's house, or even of Hogwarts. He could apparate. Granted, he hadn't taken the test, but he could. He stood up and went to Jordan. Slowly taking her arm, he closed his eyes and thought of the three Ds—destination, determination, deliberation.

Jordan felt as if someone was stepping on her chest. The world began to spin and everything grew black. Then it was over. She and Harry stood in the center of her living room.

Harry looked down at himself—two hands, two feet, his head, his torso…all seemed to be there. Then he looked at Jordan—everything she owned was in tact as well. And she was beautiful. He smiled at his own skill.

"What just happened?"

"We apparated. I told you I had somewhere to go." The smile began to fade though as he thought the Ministry of Magic would be starting to get suspicious. "At least we didn't splinch."

Jordan sat down, feeling dizzy. "Splinch?"

"Yes, sometimes, if you don't concentrate hard enough, parts of you can be left behind."

"Harry…"

He sat down next to her. "What?"

"I don't know what you're doing."

"Magic, Jordan. I know you want me to go, but I want you to come with me. You're a writer. I can show you things that would make for an amazing story."

She stood again. It was all going in the wrong direction. He was a boy, a child. She could never let him feel anything for her. "No, Harry."

He shook his head. "Jordan, please! I can't go back there."

"I understand that…let me help you. You've had to live with years of abuse. It's no wonder that you…"

He stood, furious. "No wonder that I what? Am crazy? You were with me just now! We were in the park and now we're here! It happened!"

Jordan walked around behind the chair. His anger unnerved her. His eyes flashed under his glasses and his fists were balled. "I'm sorry. It's just that I—that we--…"

"I'm asking for your help, Jordan." Harry tried a different tactic. He was good at getting his way, at working around the barriers people set up for him. "I know you want to help and I appreciate that. I wouldn't ask you to do anything dangerous. Just come with me."

She put her head back, closed her eyes and sighed. "I can't, Harry."

"Fine, I'll just go home." Her eyes were still closed, but he noticed she flinched when he said it. To hell with the Ministry, to hell with all the advice. He would make a plan. They would go away together. He knew she liked him. "Can I—give you a hug—to say goodbye?"

Jordan opened her eyes, grateful that he had decided to go home, abuse or not. She could work things out on her end, find some help for him, get him out of that house and to a real school. She shook her head. "Sure."

It felt so good to hold her in his arms. He was growing tall and actually stood a couple inches over her. She fit next to him nicely. Her hair smelled like lavender and he breathed it in. Harry loved the feel of his hands on her back and knowing that her head was on his shoulder. He moved her gently away and let the desire overtake him. He kissed her; a romantic, lingering kiss.

But she wrenched away, "No! No! Harry, I'm—I can't!"

His eyes blazed for a moment, then he turned on his heel and left.

Harry sulked up in his room. He had already been through so much, and now that he had talked with Jordan about it, his patience was growing thin. There was no one to help him any longer. Sirius and Dumbledore were dead. It was not even certain Hogwarts would be open for his seventh year. He was days away from being "legal" in the wizarding world—the age of 17—and he could come and go as he wished. He wanted to leave more than anything in the world. Harry wanted to go do what he was destined to do, and he wanted Jordan to come with him.

What also bothered him was that he didn't even feel like being with his best friends, Ron and Hermione. Although he had always loved the Burrow, he had no desire to go. He wanted to search for the horcruxes, items in which Lord Voldemort had hidden pieces of his fractured soul to keep himself immortal. Once those four objects were found and destroyed, Voldemort could finally be killed. And Harry would have his greatest revenge.

The only problem was he felt himself becoming less patient, thinking fewer good thoughts, feeling, well, like he wanted to do bad things to people. He found himself lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the Dark Arts spells he'd learned the year before—out of the book signed by the "Half Blood Prince." After, he found out that Snape was the prince, that Snape had invented horrible spells like Sectum Sempra, thecurse that cut its victim as if it was a sword.

Now, here he was, stuck again in Uncle Vernon's house, without Jordan, who decided he was too young. _Always too young_. He had been chasing the darkest creatures almost all his life—and most times won against them. He had seen many people he cared about die before his eyes. He had been named "the Chosen One." Yet, people still thought he was too young. As far as the wizarding world was concerned, he was a man. He'd make Jordan see it too.

Jordan sat on the swing in the park the following night. She somehow knew Harry wouldn't come there and was glad for it. She hadn't been able to sleep after Harry left, feeling terribly guilty. But she was older than he, by quite a few years. It wasn't right to let this boy, no matter how talented or mature, feel anything for her. He was a good-looking boy, but needed a normal life, with people his own age, like that Ron or Hermione he had told her about.

She couldn't deny that they had moved from outside to her living room in a matter of moments, though. The feeling of suffocation was intense and she wondered what caused it. Jordan was beginning to think he had been telling the truth. That perhaps he was magical. She heard a noise and turned around. "Harry?"

The street was deserted and it had drizzled, leaving puddles that reflected the dim street lights above. She could see pretty well, but the dark patches outlined by fences and bushes unnerved her and she stood. "Hello?"

There was no answer and truthfully, Jordan hadn't expected one. She began to walk, turning around at times to make sure no one was behind her. She turned frontward again and bumped into a figure in black.

She stifled a scream as her heart leapt into her throat. It was another boy, tall and skinny. He looked at her with shifty, beady eyes. His hair was long and very blond. It hadn't been washed in ages and he had a long robe on, like one in which someone would graduate. He held a stick in his hand, much like the kind Harry had when he showed her tricks.

"What do you w-want?" Jordan stammered, backing away.

"Harry Potter lives around here, doesn't he?"

"Who are you?"

"That doesn't matter. I am asking you a question and I expect an answer."

Jordan continued to back up until she reached the broken swing set. He moved toward her menacingly, holding the stick in the air in front of him. She couldn't speak. Somehow, she felt she was not going to come out of this the victor.

"Tell me!" He hissed.

"I don't know who you're talking about."

She couldn't go any farther without turning around and she didn't trust this boy enough to do that. He came within inches of her face and stood looking down his nose at her, sneering, his fingers clutching the stick and pointing it at her heart.

"I have seen you with him. You just spoke his name. No harm will come to you if you just tell me."

Jordan suppressed a shudder. How long had he been watching them? Was he another cousin? Had he been to the house on Privet Drive?

"Privet Drive?" He smiled. "You think too much."

She shook her head. How did he…?

"You should have just told me. Your unwillingness was—well, dangerous."

"Leave him alone!" Jordan yelled, hoping Harry was outside somewhere, listening and preparing to run away.

"You are a stupid woman! _Shut up!_"

"I'll scream so loud someone _will_ come running."

"I'm afraid you won't be able to."

Was he going to kill her? There? On the street? She had never felt so scared in her life. And this was a mere boy in front of her.

"I am not a boy. You will see."

He backed away and Jordan relaxed a bit. Then without warning, he raised his wand again and his voice echoed in the night air, "Crucio!"

Her insides felt as if they were exploding. She crumpled to the ground, screaming as the pain tore through her. She rolled on the wet grass, holding her side, moving back and forth, trying to make it stop. Jordan heard a crack and didn't know if it was her body tearing in two. Tears flowed down her face and she began to lose the strength to scream anymore.

"Finite Incantatem!"

And it was over…

Chapter Four

The Patronus

"Are you alright?"

Harry was next to her, praying her eyes would open. Her breathing seemed to have settled. He had heard her yell from his bedroom window and snuck out of the house as soon as he could. When he heard the scream and then the now-familiar crack of someone disapparating, he knew something terrible had happened.

"Who did this to you?"

Feebly, she tried to sit up. "I don't know. I-I've never seen him before."

"We're leaving, Jordan."

She pushed him away and unsteadily rose to her feet. Hugging herself, she ignored his calls to her and started to walk home. She knew she had almost been killed. Harry hadn't been lying about wizards. The boy who accosted her in the park was a wizard as well and he had tried to kill her for protecting Harry.

Harry was left standing in the park and wanted to scream in fury. Part of him wanted to run after her, shake her, make her see they belonged together and away from this place. The other half of him wanted to chase whoever had done this to her, knowing that it was probably a Death Eater. Voldemort was getting worried again, wondering where Harry was, preparing to fight him yet again. That was it. He was going.

He went back to his house, opening the front door with a loud bang with his wand. Before long, Uncle Vernon in his tartan robe, came bellowing into the hallway, "Harry! What the hell are you doing, making a noise like that?"

Harry ignored him, went to his room, slammed the door, called "Colloportus!" to lock it tightly, went to his trunk, and called "Evanesco!" The trunk disappeared and Harry then grabbed his broom. Opening his window, he mounted it, and kicked off until he felt the wind rushing by him.

Jordan was already in her house. She had locked all the doors and was lying on the sofa, wrapped in an afghan. All the lights were on and she was crying, knowing full well if the boy _had_ been a wizard, nothing would keep him out of her house and from finishing the job of killing her.

A knockmade her jump. Maybe it was the police. They must have heard her screams. She straightened herself out, and trembling, went to the door.

Harry was outside, hands in his pockets. "Jordan, please let me in."

"Go away, Harry. Please. I'm tired. I need to rest."

"Let me explain what happened."

She closed her eyes, and then backed away, letting him enter. He left his broom behind the tree next to her house, figuring it wouldn't be wise to bring it inside. If he needed it, he could use a summoning charm.

"Sit down, Jordan. Let me get _you_ some tea this time." He gently lowered her on the sofa, and walked into her kitchen. He filled the kettle, put it on the stove and then opened two of the cupboards before he found the one with the mugs inside. In a few minutes he had two cups of tea ready andbrought them out. She had started to cry again and her beautiful blue eyes were swollen. He gave her the tea and sat next to her.

"A Cruciatus Curse was used on you. It is meant to cause great pain, but not to kill."

She only cried harder. He took the cup out of her hand for fear she would spill it and burn herself, then held both her hands in his. "I'm so sorry, Jordan. Whoever it was, he was looking for me, wasn't he?"

Jordan only nodded. She wanted him to let her go. Things were going to go from bad to worse and there was nothing she could do about it. "What did you say to make it stop?"

"I said Finite Incantatem."

"Finish the incantation?"

He smiled, "Yes." How did she know that? "I think you might have magic in you."

She stood then, roughly dropping his hands. "No! Go away, Harry!"

He felt betrayed. Being magical was a wonderful thing. She made it sound terrible, dirty. True, dark magic was ugly and vile but being a wizard had saved Harry a life with the Dursleys. He wasn't going to let her point her nose down at it.

"I won't go away! You have to tell me who did that to you!"

"I told you I don't know!"

"What did he look like?"

Jordan sighed, tried to remember through the haze of excruciating pain. "He was about your height, blond, very thin, wearing a robe."

"Malfoy…"

"Who?"

"Nevermind. There will be more coming. We have to leave—now—tonight."

Jordan backed away from the fury in his eyes. He was no better than the other boy in the park. They were boys trying to play at man games. She spoke slowly, quietly, "Get out of my house now, Harry. I'm not kidding. Go home and leave me alone."

His wand was out andpointedat her, "Impedimenta!"

Jordan was thrown back against the wall. Harry stood in front of her, his free hand near her neck as though he would hold her there if he needed to. Just as quietly he said, "Get some clothes. We're leaving tonight."

She thought better than to disobey. Where were they going? What should she bring? Was he kidnapping her or was he truly thinking of her safety? She slowly moved away from him and went up the stairs. He didn't follow her. He seemed to lapse into deep thought himself.

Shaking, Harry sat on the sofa. What was he doing? He hadn't even thought when he threw her up against the wall. He liked her…why was he scaring her? What was happening to him? He stood again and began pacing. Where would they even go? It was too late to turn back…but just as suddenly he knew what he would have to do.

Jordan came back downstairs with a backpack full of clothes and toiletries. She had her passport, wallet, extra money and her keys, just in case. She had also left a note upstairs if someone ever came looking for her. Harry seemed much calmer now, the black look in his eyes was gone.

"I'm ready."

With a flick of his wand, Harry turned out the lights and escorted her quietly out the door. Jordan shuddered. Wizards—roaming the streets—next to regular people every day, working, playing. Had she known any others?

While Jordan locked the door behind them, Harry pulled out his broom from behind the tree.

"What is that?" she asked.

"My broom. That's how we're going to travel."

"No way…"

"Jordan, that's actually the best thing I do, fly. Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you."

She took the elastic off her wrist and with steely resolve, and figuring she had come close to death once already that night, put her hair back and adjusted the backpack. Harry put one leg over the broom and gently kicked off so he was hovering inches from the ground.

"Get on."

"What if I weigh too much? What if…?"

He laughed, "Don't be ridiculous! Just get on, so we can go. Malfoy is going to tell the others I'm here and we'll both be in danger."

Jordan gingerly sat behind him, putting her arms around his waist. The broom dipped slightly but then continued to hover. He kicked off again and they slowly rose higher and higher. She held on tight to him, wanting to scream from the exhilaration of flying, but didn't. The wind became stronger as they moved upward, but Harry kept them steady. Over the houses, past the trees, near the stars they went.

They didn't speak, and soon Jordan was shivering. The air was becoming icy, despite the fact it was July. "Are you cold?" He asked.

"A little."

"I'm sorry. Just hang on. I hope it won't take too long to get there."

The truth was he didn't know if he could get there on his own. He never had before. Harry could only think of two places he might be able to go to hide out for awhile, until he could come up with a plan to kill Voldemort. One was his godfather's, now Harry's, home, the Order of the Phoenix headquarters on Grimmauld Place in London. But after tonight, he knew there was too much of a chance that the Order would have an emergency meeting, especially when they learned that Harry was missing. The second place was Hogwarts. It was doubtful it was going to open, so no one would be there, security would be non-existent, and Harry could get in. He knew the corridors and classrooms like the back of his hand. He could find a hiding place, maybe even Snape's office in the dungeon, and think of his next move. Being in Snape's old office could provide him with some clues to where the murderer was now.

"Harry?" Jordan yelled, realizing how quiet he was.

"It's alright. We'll make it."

Jordan put her head down against his back to shelter herself from the wind. He loved feeling her there. Every once in awhile, she'd tighten her grip and Harry began to worry that she'd fall asleep and slip off. Seeing a forest down below, he pointed the broom downward and soon they were on the ground.

With shaking legs, she moved off the broom. "Are we here?"

"No, you need to sleep. I don't want you falling off."

She was shivering and Harry went to her and held her, rubbing her arms and back to warm her up. Truth was he was cold too. He wondered if he could safely start a fire. Harry moved his broom aside, gathered some sticks into a small pile then looked both ways.

"Incendio!" He whispered and a small flame sparked on the pile.

Soon they were both adding wood to it and it became warm and cozy. They sat silently for a long time, just staring, mesmerized by the flames. Harry felt himself getting sleepy, but was afraid Jordan would wander off while he was indisposed and would get lost or worse yet, be caught by something dark and evil that was after him.

"Jordan, I want you to sleep."

"You said that already."

He laughed, "I did? Sorry, I'm tired too, I guess."

"I believe you now."

"Well, I would think the ride on the broom would have sealed the deal."

Jordan laughed herself at that. "Yes, that was a giveaway that there was some sort of magic involved."

"Then you'll believe me when I say you cannot wander off, anywhere, without me. I don't know what has seen us or who is following me—or you for that matter. If you go off on your own, and I can't get to you in time…All I know is you'll be safe if you stay with me until we get where we're going."

She was too scared to go anywhere alone. His bursts of temper frightened her, but it was nothing like the feeling she had when Malfoy cursed her. "Where are we going?"

"I can't tell you. But it is far away from here."

"Harry…"

"I'm sorry, Jordan. Why don't you come sit by me, closer to the fire?"

Dragging her back pack with her and leaning against it, she sat next to Harry, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her head on her arms. Putting his wand and broom so they were close by, Harry moved next to her, rested against a tree and pulled her to lie in his lap. He tugged the elastic out of her hair, closed his eyes and slowly stroked her head. Soon they were both asleep.

_Harry stood on the ramparts of the Astronomy Tower, Malfoy in front of him. Malfoy, pale and gaunt from fear and dread, aimed his wand at the feeble Professor Dumbledore. Harry was under the Petrificus Totalus spell, cast by Dumbledore and under his Invisibility Cloak, so he was forced to watch the scene helplessly._

_Dumbledore was trying to convince Malfoy that his foray to the Dark side would only hurt his family, not save them. He had nearly gotten the Slytherin prefect to lower his wand, to let Dumbledore protect him. But then Snape showed up. Tall, greasy, with a long, pointed nose, Severus Snape had never tried to hide his feelings for Harry Potter. He had gone to school with Harry's father James and James's friends and been picked upon mercilessly. He never forgave James Potter that and turned cold and mean. Having Harry in his own Potions classes was sweet revenge and he had made the Potter boy's life hell in the six years at Hogwarts. Harry knew he was working for Voldemort—knew he had once been a Death Eater, one of Lord Voldemort's whipping boys, even if Dumbledore refused to see it. When Severus held out his wand and yelled the one true Unforgivable Curse,_ Avada Kedavra_—the Killing Curse, Harry's life would never be the same. Every bit of stability he had, what little he had, was gone. Anger and pain welled inside Harry, as Dumbledore's body flew past him, off the tower and down, to the ground, dead…_

Harry was cold now, shivering, crying silent tears in his sleep, feeling sad, sadder then he ever had…then his eyes flew open. Black hooded beings flew over them, one had lowered itself down to Jordan, was gently turning her over, moved to place a soft, yet deadly kiss on her now pale lips.

"No!" he yelled, feeling weak and disoriented himself. He patted the ground furiously beside him. The wand was gone! He slid out from under Jordan, let her thump to the ground, and hoped it would wake her up, but it was too late. The Dementors were moving up and down along her body, in a sick, intimate kind of way.

Moving his hand behind him, he finally found his wand; he jumped to his feet and yelled, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" A sliver of light emanated from his wand, but it fell to the ground. Excitedly, the creatures moved away from Jordan, began to circle around Harry. They had found their prey. Harry felt dizzy, cold.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

It was difficult. Harry had not felt truly happy in ages. Nothing about the last few weeks of school, about leaving Ginny and the Weasleys, about watching Dumbledore die and being powerless to stop it, about being alone, about having to go back to the Dursleys made him happy. He had lost his one chance at fighting the Dementors. But then he thought of Griffyndor winning the House Cup, even with Harry serving detention with Snape. He remembered coming into a riotous common room, of Ginny running into his arms. And of his first, real kiss. _That_ had made him happy…

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Jordan awoke to see a silver stag running at each of the figures in black. As it swept by them, they moved farther and farther away. Harry pointed his wand at first one, then another and each time the ethereal animal chased after it. Soon they were gone.

Harry's legs gave way and he fell to the ground. Jordan found herself trembling but didn't know what had happened. She crawled over to him. "Are you alright?"

"Y-Yes…but we have to leave. It's started."

"What has? What were those things?"

"Dementors. You were almost kissed by them. They will suck out your soul, Jordan. Kill you while you live." As if saying that had cursed him, Harry touched his forehead as the pain coursed through his scar. Voldemort was nearby.

"Harry, what is it?" Jordan reached out and put her hand to his forehead. The pain doubled in intensity. His head felt like it would split open.

Without thinking, to escape the burning in his head, he pushed her roughly aside. She rose to her knees again. "Harry, just let me…"

"No!" He yelled, the pain intensifying each time she drew near. "Stop!" He backhanded her, throwing her to the ground.

She didn't move. Her face had hit the cold dirt. She felt the blood, tasted it, knew she was hurt. Who was this boy? How did he change emotions so quickly and why?

Harry stood. He walked around in a small circle, not understanding why his scar hurt so badly and why when Jordan touched it, did it become worse. Was she performing some form of Occlumency? Or perhaps she was under the effects of Polyjuice Potion…could she be Malfoy? Was it just Harry? Had all the years of running from Voldemort into the hands of abusive relatives finally made him paranoid?

"Jordan…" he said quietly. "Are you alright?"

She was sitting up now, but turned away from him. Her lip was bleeding freely and she had no way to stop it. Her cheek was hot with pain, but she refused to let him know. "Harry, you have to bring me home."

"To America?"

"Harry…"

"It's too late for that now. We have to move forward." He walked around to her and when she tried to turn, he held her shoulders fast. He stood her up, lifted her chin and winced to see what he had done. He took the bottom of his shirt and mopped up her lip, then gently kissed her cheek. She stiffened.

"Jordan, when my scar hurts, it usually means that the man who killed my parents is near. For some reason, when it starts to hurt, and you touch it, it is agony. I don't know why, but you make it worse. No one's ever done that. It's like you're a witch or something. You have some sort of power to hurt me."

It was too much. Jordan began to cry.

Chapter Five

Snape

Once they left the forest, Harry began to recognize the area. Soon they were flying into Hogwarts. Narrowly missing the Whomping Willow, he touched down outside the castle. Jordan, who had been shivering only moments before, suddenly grew quiet as the large estate came into view.

Never had she seen so many turrets and towers. The buildings went on forever. Circles of stone surrounded the castle; moats and lakes dotted the landscape. She saw gardens, greenhouses, paths and plazas. Harry began to walk toward the main door but Jordan could not get her legs to move.

He turned around when he noticed she wasn't with him. Going back, he took her hand. "Come on, it's okay. We should be safe here."

Once they reached the door, Harry took out his wand, "Alohamora!" He heard the familiar "click" and the door swung open. Without even speaking, he waved his wand around the walls and torches lit, illuminating the corridor. Jordan expected the building to be cold, but instead it eminated a comforting kind of heat.

Harry took the chance of going to the Griffyndor common room first. They needed a good night's sleep and it would be comfortable. Slowly, they climbed the stairs and Jordan kept tripping as she looked around. She had never been inside anywhere so immense, not at all the colleges she lectured. Once, Harry had to pull her back after she nearly went over the rail when a portrait began singing as they passed.

At the top of the stairs, a large portrait of a woman in a pink dress barred their path. She fixed her hair and uncrossed her arms, "Harry Potter! Dear, you are back here? Does that mean school will start soon?"

"I think it will…I'm just getting things ready. But I don't know the password."

"Oh, for you, dear boy, I will tell you. It's…" She looked at Jordan, then motioned for Harry to come closer to her, "It's 'Galleons.'"

"She's with me." Harry said, taking Jordan's hand again. "Galleons!" he commanded, and the portrait swung open.

"Be careful, now." he said to Jordan, "Duck your head."

Once they made it into the room, the door closed behind them. With a flick and swish of the wand, a roaring fire blazed in the hearth and Harry walked around, more relaxed than he had been since they left Little Whinging.

Jordan sat in a chair in front of the fire. "What's a Galleon?"

"It's wizard gold. Luckily for us, I have lots of it. My parents—well, they made sure I had enough to last me a lifetime."

The room was filled with cozy chairs and bookcases, writing desks and tables.Paintings hung on the walls and Jordan could imagine the room filled with people, all chattering away, relating the day's adventures. "Is this—is this your school?"

"Hogwarts. Yes."

"Wow…"

Harry smiled. "That's what I said when I first came here. It seems so long ago."

"It's safe?" Looking at him, so untroubled and at home, Jordan felt like she was the 17-year old and Harry was the adult.

"I think so. Safe enough for us to sleep. Tomorrow, I'll be able to think of a plan."

"A plan? For what?"

"Nevermind, Jordan." He took a throw off one of the benches and brought it to her. He covered her up. She didn't resist. "Get some sleep. I will be right here."

Despite trying to stay awake, Jordan felt herself dozing off. Harry went to the bookcase and ran his fingers along the books. The best years of his life were spent within these walls, with all his fellow Griffyndors. Sure, there were times when they didn't like him, thought he was a show-off or an attention-seeker, but it was childish jealousy. As each year passed, they all became closer to each other. It made his insides ache that he wouldn't be finishing his schooling here. Instead, it would be in the real world, against Voldemort himself, where he would graduate.

Book open underneath his arms, with his head on the wrinkled pages, was how Jordan found him when she awoke. It was a sunny day and she looked out the windows to the grounds many feet below. A field with three hoops and bleachers was to her left. Was this the "football" field to which he had been referring? To her right she saw endless rolling hills.

"Harry…" she said quietly. "Harry, wake up."

He opened his eyes and groggily got to his feet after extracting page 881 of _Magic Moste Evile_ from his right cheek "Good morning…"

"Good morning. Did you get much sleep?"

"A little."

Jordan looked around then faced him, feeling a little embarrassed. "Harry, I need—I need a bathroom."

"Oh, right through there. Everything you need should be inside."

She followed where he pointed and figured she must have gone into his dormitory. There were four poster beds in different rooms and empty cupboards and tables. Behind another door was a communal bathroom. It was obviously a boy's dormitory, but it would do.

When Harry saw her again, she was in different clothes, and her long hair was wet and shiny down her back. She looked refreshed, and the bruise on her cheek was fading. Harry left next and Jordan took the opportunity to look at the books on the shelves. She longed to take them out but didn't know if she was allowed. The spines read the craziest titles: _From Egg to Inferno: A Dragon Keeper's Guide_, _Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions_, _Prefects Who Gained Power, The Standard Book of Spells (Grades 1-6), Quidditch Through the Ages…_

"You can take one down."

Jordan yelped and nearly fell backward at the sound of his voice. He, too, had changed and was towel-drying his hair.

"Sorry," he said.

"What's Quidditch?"

"It's the sport we play here. I'm a Seeker—the youngest in a century. My team has won the Cup almost every year I've been at Hogwarts."

"But what is it?"

"Want to walk to the field and I'll tell you?"

He led her outside and to the field Jordan had seen out the window. Using his broom and gestures, he explained to her the rules of the game. Jordan had to admit, she loved to see him fly. He made it seem effortless and she could tell he was truly happy in the air.

"Are you hungry?"

"Starved."

He took her to the kitchen, surprised even that was empty—devoid of house elves to cook. The cupboards still had food in them and they managed to make themselves a meal that was edible. Sitting alone, dwarfed by the furniture in the Great Hall, they ate, Harry explaining the sorting process.

"A hat talks to you?" Jordan asked, incredulous.

"Yes. It's enchanted. Been here since Hogwarts opened. The First-years put the hat on and then it decides which house they belong in. Griffyndor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin."

"Slytherin sounds bad."

"Very astute. It is. Never has an honorable witch or wizard come out of Slytherin. Malfoy, the boy that attacked you, he was a Slytherin and so was—"

Jordan noticed the pain in his face, "Who?"

"Voldemort."

"That's the man who killed your parents."

Harry nodded. "And many others."

"Where is he?"

"Looking for me, no doubt."

She shivered, unable to listen to any more scary stories. "Can I see some more of the school?"

Harry stood, grateful for the change in subject. As they wandered to different classrooms and he told her about Professor Flitwick's Charms classes, Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration lessons, 5th year OWL exams and more, Harry knew that the time would come when he'd have to be a man again, but for now, he enjoyed letting his mind wander back to happier times.

"What's down here?" She was breathing heavily as they reached the third floor.

She pointed to a room flanked by cobweb-covered statues. Harry remembered five years earlier when after he, Ron and Hermione passed Hagrid's three-headed dog and played life-sized wizard's chess, Harry had fought Voldemort for the second time in his life in that room.

"Oh, the mirror of Erised is in there."

"The what?"

"Come on, I'll show you, though it probably won't seem very exciting to you."

The room was dark, even after Harry lit some torches. The mirror, with its large gilded frame, sat dusty in the center of the far wall. Their footsteps echoed as they descended the staircase.

"Take a look in the mirror and tell me what you see." Harry smiled, waiting for her to say that she saw herself asone would in any mirror. It surprised him though when she just smiled.

"What?"

"I can see my mother's house in America. Our Sunday afternoon picnics in our backyard. All my family's there. I miss them so much. This isamazing. Is the mirror enchanted?"

Harry wheeled around. "What?"

She moved away and tried to go behind the mirror, see if there was some sort of mechanism there that could look into her heart. "My whole family is there waiting for me."

He ran to her, took her by the shoulders and spun her to him. She nearly fell over and the smile left her face when she saw his fierceness. "How can you see that?"

"What do you mean? What did I do?"

He let go of her and paced. "Only magical people can see their desires in that mirror. You're a Muggle--you shouldn't see anything but your own reflection."

"Harry, Muggle's such an ugly term. Are you sure that's the way the mirror works? After all, if it's enchanted, wouldn't it be enchanted for everyone? What do _you_ see?"

Harry stood in front of it, just to be sure the roles hadn't reversed, that he wouldn't have the normal Muggle experience. His breathing eased when he saw his parents behind him, looking as young and handsome as they were when he first met them six years ago. "My parents…"

"I don't understand," Jordan sat on the stairs.

"Neither do I."

"No, I mean, how does it work? Is it the future? The past?"

"Dumbledore told me once. He said…"

The torches suddenly went out. Jordan screamed at the sudden blackness. "Harry?"

"I'm right here. Hold on." Harry reached for his wand, but it flew out of his grasp. His heart raced again. They weren't alone anymore. Had he led them into a trap? He concentrated on lighting the room—_Lumos! Lumos!_ But nothing happened.

After a few moments, his eyes adjusted. He looked to the floor and found his wand. Harry dived for it, "Lumos!"

The wand gave off a light that put the room in a blurred, greenish haze. He breathed a sigh of relief--and then spun around. She was gone.

_Damn!_ "Jordan!" He called, "Jordan, where are you?"

He sat heavily on the stairs when he finally realized she wasn't going to answer. It had been rash to come to Hogwarts. They weren't safe after all and if Voldemort was here, they were trapped. Shaking his head, he willed himself to be calm. Harry hadn't even had the time to find any of the horcruxes. Would Dumbledore's death have been in vain?

Sure that Jordan had been taken, he left the room and headed down the eight flights of stairs--to the Dungeon—and Professor Severus Snape's office.

Jordan felt the same suffocating sensation as when she and Harry moved from the street to her living room. Her senses were confused. She couldn't see, felt blind, disoriented. When it was over, she swayed as her feet touched the ground.

"Who's there?"

She could sense someone near her. Her heart sped up at the thought it might be that boy Malfoy again, preparing to hurt her. Tense, with her hands outstretched, ready to fight if need be, Jordan waited, listening to the slight shuffling of feet on the floor

"You have been foolish to follow him." The voice was deep, cold, distinctive. It was not Malfoy.

"Who?"

"DON'T play with me!"

Her arms, of their own accord, went over her head and a green light snaked around them, binding them above her to a place she couldn't even see, despite the fact her eyes were beginning to adjust. She felt sick to her stomach. It didn't take long for her arms to ache in their new position.

"I didn't—really follow him." Her voice cracked.

"Lumos!" The red light came from his wand and illuminated both of them. He moved to her, pleased that he had succeeded so brilliantly, so easily. Just as he reached her, he noticed the bruise on her cheek. With his free hand, he held her chin and looked at her face. "Well," he sneered, "It looks like there may be hope for Mr. Potter yet."

She shook him away from her. "Who are you?"

"That doesn't matter. All you need to know is that you are mine to do as I see fit until I get orders to the contrary."

"What—what does that mean?"

"It means that Harry Potter will come for you and he will see the Dark Lord and it will be finished—at last."

She was trembling, her arms shaking above her. The chains made a quiet, rattling noise. "Are you-are you Voldemort?"

His laughed echoed in the room. "No, dear girl, I am not. But thank you."

The man moved away from her then, whipping his black robe away from his legs with a flourish. His boots echoed on the floor. The only light in the room was that coming from his wand, so he waved at a lone torch on the wall. He positioned himself in front of her, as the orange light gave her an unearthly glow, and raised his wand.

"No!" She yelled in panic, sure she would be feeling the effects of another curse.

He smiled, but then his face registered surprise when his wand was removed from his hand and skidded across the floor. Had she done that? Potter wasn't nearby; no, he would have known if the boy had come into the room. Had she performed the Expelliarmus spell without speaking, without even so much as a wand herself?

Like lightning, he moved to her and grabbed her hair. She winced in pain as her neck was forced back. "What did you just do?"

"N-nothing…"

"You disarmed me!" With a wave of his other hand, the wand hurtled back toward him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Please…"

He pushed her head forwardand moved a slight distance from her. He knew he would have to work fast. "Sectum Sempra!"

A searing pain went across her abdomen and Jordan gasped in alarm and horror. She could feel the blood trickling over her stomach and looked down to see the gash across her middle. She screamed as the pain continued.

The man in black laughed and raised his wand again. "Sectum Sempra!"

Her arm began to bleed just under her wrist. "Stop! Please! Make it stop!"

The former Potions teacher and Defense Against the Dark Arts Master didn't move, didn't speak, just let the girl bleed. Before long, her eyes began to roll back into her head. It was only then he went to her, touched his wand to her stomach and arm, said some quiet incantations and then skin closed itself up, repaired itself.

Pain moved away from her and she could picture it leaving, like a boat slowly, silently drifting off shore. The blackness dissipated, but the room swam. "Who are you?"

He flicked his wand again, removing the chains. She fell heavily to the floor in a heap. "Severus Snape."

Chapter Six

Pieces of the Puzzle

Harry looked up suddenly from the appointment book he had been looking at in Snape's desk. He had felt a sudden jolt, as if he were falling. Looking around, Harry wondered what he had felt—or _who_ he had felt. Was it Jordan?

Throwing the book back into the drawer and taking two tries to shut it, he ran out of the room and toward the stairs. He didn't know where to begin looking. He had hoped that something in Snape's office would have led him to her, but what a fool he had been—he didn't even know if Snape had anything to do with Jordan's disappearance.

Something made him stop outside of the gargoyle statue on the second floor. He knew Professor McGonagall, as acting headmistress, used the office now, but it had been Dumbledore's office ever since Harry had started school there. Strangely, the gargoyle moved aside to reveal the great winding staircase the moment Harry got there. Cautiously, he started up the staircase and entered the now-empty office.

The sorting hat was not on its usual shelf and of course, Fawkes, the headmaster's Phoenix was gone. Fawkes had flown away after singing his mournful death-song during Dumbledore's funeral. Harry felt goosebumps on his arms and hugged himself.

"Harry…" came a familiar, soothing voice. "Harry, what _are _you doing?"

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry smiled, despite himself. Of course, he should have remembered, the portraits of the former headmasters always spoke when people were in the room. Since his death, Dumbledore had been hanging among them. Harry had seen him perched in the frame right after, when Professor McGonagall and the other house leaders met in the office.

"Harry, I will say I am surprised you are here. I figured you had—other things which to attend." Professor Dumbledore wore his finest hat in the portrait, his long white hair and beard making him look the quintessential wizard.

Harry noted a touch of disappointment in the headmaster's voice. "Sir, I well, I—acted rashly and I'm afraid I've put someone in danger."

"Voldemort is here, Harry." Dumbledore looked the same as he had during Harry's time at Hogwarts, no younger, no older. His face helped to calm Harry as the goosebumps were causing him to shiver nervously.

"I-I know. I'm trying to find him. Do you know where he is?"

"I am but a portrait. I only see what comes into this room."

Harry looked around him, knowing now why he felt so cold. "Has he been here, then, sir?"

"Yes, he was looking for something."

"So he still has a full body, and can move on his own."

"Yes, yes…"

_Where was Jordan?_ Where would he have taken her? Surely, Lord Voldemort would want Harry to go there; that would have been the sole reason for taking her. Why make it difficult to find them?

"Professor, where do you think he might be?"

"Perhaps, although it is only a guess, he would be where you want him to be."

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. Even after his death, Dumbledore still spoke to him in riddles. "Sir?"

"If I were to hazard a guess."

"Sir, I…" But then Harry knew. _The Room of Requirement_. "Yes! Thank you, Professor. It is-it is good to see you."

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes sparkling over his half-moon spectacles. "And you."

Harry left then, running as fast as he could back to the seventh floor, home of his own dormitory, home of Professor Flitwick's office, and second only to the Astronomy Tower itself for the highest point at Hogwarts. His side cramped up and he doubled over, breathing hard for a moment. Moving even quicker to make up lost time, Harry was soon sliding across the shiny floor to land in front of the room no one could see unless they needed something.

"Take to me Jordan Taylor. Take me to Jordan Taylor. Take me to Jordan Taylor." Harry recited three times. Turning, he stamped his foot impatiently when the door to the room didn't appear out of the smooth surface of the corridor wall.

"I want to see Jordan Taylor. I want to see Jordan Taylor. I want to see Jordan Taylor."

Still, nothing happened. Harry turned suddenly, wanting to pound his fist into the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy across from him. "Come _on_!"

He heard a scream. It echoed down the corridor. He pounded on the wall opposite him. _"Open!"_ Had that been Jordan? Had it been a trap, meant to lead him in another direction?

"I wish to fight Lord Voldemort. I wish to fight Lord Voldemort. I wish to fight Lord Voldemort." Harry kept his eyes closed, tried to stay calm, say the words with conviction, not fear. When he turned back, a large wooden door was in front of him.

Shaking, he turned the latch and opened it. Inside, were still the dusty objects he had seen earlier in the summer when he had been looking for Malfoy. Everyone left the objects they most wished to hide in that room. Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney left her empty scotch bottles in there, Filch had left behind furniture that he couldn't use his squib magic to fix, and Harry and the other members of their fifth year group, Dumbledore's Army, kept all the materials they needed in there for their Defense Against the Dark Arts classes that Harry himself had taught.

He followed a shard of light past all of the crumbling pieces of furniture and dusty books. He wondered if Snape's marked up Potions book was still hidden where he left it. The scream came again and he moved faster. It _was _Jordan. He felt weak.

Finally escaping the man-made corridor, Harry looked around to see where she could be. And there she was--lying on the floor, under a spotlight, her hair in a tangled mess. "Jordan…" He whispered. He had heard so many stories of people tortured to madness and death at the hands of Voldemort. His classmate, Neville Longbottom's parents were mere shells of themselves because of what the Dark Lord's cronieshad put them through. They were in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and didn't even know who Neville was when he went to visit them.

He took a step toward her. She was breathing heavily. Just as he got to her, he heard a voice, "Very good, Potter. It took you awhile, but then again, most things do."

Harry's wand was out instantly and he turned to see Snape. It had been Snape that took Jordan, Snape who was hurting her, not Voldemort. "You son of a bitch!"

"Potter," he sounded impressed. "You _have_ become darker."

"Leave her alone! Your counter-curses won't work this time!"

"You know as well as I, Potter, nothing has changed. I still have the upper hand and the backing of my Master." Snape, had not even tried to go for his own wand. It unnerved Harry.

"Then kill me and let her go."

Snape laughed then. "You think he wants you dead? You are a stupid boy."

Harry stood taller. "The prophecy says either Voldermort or I will die at the other's hand. Let him kill me then."

"Harry?" Jordan was looking up at him, her eyes squinting under the light. Blood matted her hair to her right temple. As she sat up, he saw the blood over her shirt and pants. His stomach lurched. What had Snape done to her?

"I'm right here." Without thinking, he went to her. Oddly, Snape didn't even try to stop him. But just as he reached her, just when his hands touched her, blue sparks emanated from his fingers, sending a jolting shock through her. She yelped in pain.

"What…?" He looked at his hands, much as he had when he had touched Professor Quirrell during his first year. Then, his hands had turned the teacher to dust. "What am I…?" Harry looked at his former Potions professor and saw the sneer on his face. _Snape must have done that, not me,_ he thought. So he tried to lift her up again. Again the blue sparks went into her.

He let her go as she screamed in pain and stood to face Snape. "WHAT ARE YOU MAKING ME DO?"

"It's all of your own doing, Potter."

Harry's wand came out, "Avada Kadavra!" But nothing happened. The light shot out toward Professor Snape, but he still stood. Harry rushed him, waiting for the curse that would send him sprawling across the room, but it never came. Harry ran straight through what was supposed to be Severus Snape. It was a picture, a holograph, much like what one would see at the movie theater.

"Harry…" The words hissed across the empty silence like a snake.

"Voldemort."

"Yessss…."

"Face me you coward!"

Jordan screamed. Harry went to her but did not touch her. She was panting, trying to catch a breath that wouldn't come. He felt panicked by helplessness. There had to be some way to beat him, some way to finish this. Nothing in the prophecy mentioned Jordan being there. Why was she? Why had she entered his life at that precise time?

"Careful what you say, Harry. _She_ will be punished, not you."

"Why? It's me you want, not her. Come out and let's do this!"

"No, Harry. I have a task for you. Something you need to do if you want her to live. And I know you do."

"A task?"

"I want you to bring me one of the horcruxes. Any one of them."

"Why?" Harry's hands went to his scar. It burned feverishly and his head began to pound. "You know where they are. _You_ get them!"

"I will have you serving me yet, Potter. I will have you serving me the way I could never get your parents to. It is not because I need the horcrux. It is because I want you by my side. Once you have done this, trust me, Harry, you will be mine."

"NO!"

The holographic image of Snape held his wand aloft and screamed, "Sectum Sempra!"

Blood spurted from Jordan's leg. She grasped it in agony, blood running through her fingers. She cried out in a ragged, rasping breath that echoed off the walls. Harry's eyes darted back and forth from her to Snape and back again. Harry yelled an agonizing yell, one that drowned out the other noises in his head. His wail caused Snape to break the spell, so surprised he was by Harry's outburst.

"Make her pain stop, Snape. I will do as he says."

"Very well, Potter." Muttering his secret incantations, Jordan's gashes closed up and all that was left was the sticky blood that had begun to pool on the floor.

"Where do I go?" Harry said to the Voldemort he still had yet to see.

"That is for you to find out. You were going to have to anyway, weren't you?"

"But…"

"Find me one of the horcruxes I have hidden; bring it to me. And in front of me, you will take it for yourself."

Harry was breathing very hard. The room swam as he digested what his enemy was saying. "It will never work."

"It _will_ work because that is how I designed it to work. But Harry you won't have very long. I will give you two weeks. Two weeks only. If you don't find it, or try to destroy it once you do, she will die."

The spotlight went off and Harry ran to her, knowing any charm was broken. Sure enough, once he reached her, he was able to safely pull her to a standing position. Grateful, she sunk against him.

"Take her with you." Voldemort ordered.

"What?" Now he was confused.

"Mark my words, she will die, Harry Potter, a most painful, agonizing death in front of you, much the way your parents did. And you will never forget it. Once she is dead, I will know to come for you."

Harry turned on the omnipotent Voldemort and began to leave the Room of Requirement, his mind spinning faster than it ever had. Jordan had trouble walking but managed to take a few steps before faltering.

"Jordan will receive periodic visits from me so I will be updated on your progress." The Dark Lord sounded like he was right over Harry's shoulder. "And Snape, Malfoy and the others in my army will be watching you! Good luck!"

Harry didn't answer, but instead hurried out of the room, knowing he barely made it before the door disappeared and the wall grew smooth again. He sunk to the floor with her, losing his balance. She moaned in pain.

"Jordan, it's alright. We're going to go back to Griffyndor to get you cleaned up, and then we must go. I need to get help."

The difficult trip to Gryffindor Tower was unimpeded by Voldemort. Somehow Harry knew the Dark Lord would leave them alone until they had started on his "mission." It all became much clearer to Harry once Voldemort said he wanted Harry to serve him. Of course…Dumbledore said that the prophecy was not necessarily what it seemed.

The Fat Lady saw Jordan, gasped, and swung open. Harry thanked her and went inside. Jordan moved away from Harry and moved as quickly as she could to the bathroom. She lost track of how many times she vomited.

"Jordan!" Harry paced frantically outside the room.

"Leave me alone!" She tried to yell at him, but it came out a hoarse whisper.

She rinsed her mouth out, spit the water back into the sink, then splashed cold water on her face. Tears leaked out of her eyes when she saw the bruise on her forehead. Blood was still matted in her hair. Her eyes were sunk into her head, the pain causing her face to turn a pallid gray color. Instinctively, she began to look herself over. There was a red line on her right arm and one on her leg. Her stomach still burned from the first curse and she gingerly lifted up her shirt. Like the letter Z, a white scar covered her abdomen.

"No!" Jordan cried, louder than she intended, the noise echoing off the stone walls.

Harry forced his way in then. "What's wrong?"

Slowly she turned toward him, stomach still bared. He saw the mark, that looked so much like the scar on his forehead. He gasped. "I'm-I'm so sorry."

With more energy then she knew she had, Jordan moved to him and slapped him hard in the face. His glasses nearly came off and he lost his balance and fell back. "How dare you do this to me? How dare you bring me into this world I know nothing about! How dare you get me nearly killed! What was it you said to me? Ah, yes…'Impedimenta!'"

She flung her hand out as she said it, as if brushing him away. Harry was pushedroughly against the wall. Still not sure of his balance, he slid to the floor, breathing hard. Jordan stopped, stepped back, and then ran from the room.

Harry stayed on the floor for awhile, letting sink in what had happened. Jordan had magical powers. She had just proven it. Without even trying, she had thrown him back like a ragdoll.

Jordan was in one of the largest, softest chairs in the room, curled up, head in her hands, not crying exactly, but tears still wet her face. Her actions were stupid—and surprising. She hadn't intended anything to happen to him. But how had it?

She could feel his presence. Harry was trying to be quiet, not disturb her. "I disarmed the man who was holding me," she whispered. "I didn't know I had, but he was furious."

"Snape." Harry was equally as quiet, but he came to sit in front of her.

"Yes. His wand flew out of his hand. I don't know how I did it, but I was just thinking of how I could be safe--how I could prevent him from hurting me."

"Jordan, I know you don't want to hear this, but if you can—do magic, we need to sharpen your skills before we meet up with Voldemort again. You have to be able to defend yourself."

She only nodded. If there was some way she could fight back against agony like that, she would do it. "What are you going to do now? I heard what he said. If you don't get this horcrux thing, he will kill me."

"I need to go to the Burrow."

"The Burrow?"

"Yes, my friend Ron's house. I need to talk to him, work this out. I also need to talk to his father who works for the Ministry of Magic—the Wizard government."

"We don't have much time, Harry."

"I know, but I have to go there. It will give you some time to heal…and we'll be better prepared."

Chapter Seven

The Weasleys

Jordan insisted she could leave right away. Harry and she mounted the broom and sped away from the castle. Jordan shivered as the large building shrunk to a mere speck, hoping that the horrible creatures inside were shrinking as well. Harry loved the old estate, she could see that in his calmness, the comfort he took once inside its walls, but Jordan would always connect Hogwarts with terrible pain and fear.

Light was dawning when they reached the crooked house in the English countryside. There were no cars around, no street lights, no other houses for that matter. She was shivering again. The air had been very cold but it helped to keep her awake. Harry had taken his time, using the silence between them to decide what he would say to Ron and Hermione and where he would go first.

They touched down and Harry placed the broom in the storage shed outside. Gently taking her hand, they trudged up the gravel drive, crooked as well. Harry's heart was beating fast; it would be good to be with his adopted family again.

"Harry!" Ron had opened the door before they got to it. The 2nd to the youngest Weasley was still in his pajamas and robe, hair tousled, sleep in his eyes. "I got your post. Hedwig's here. I wanted to make sure I wasup to greet you."

"You didn't tell anyone, did you?" The two boys embraced.

"No, no one. Is this--?"

"Jordan…Yes."

Jordan stood still, feeling a little awkward at the conversation. Ron held out his hand, "Hi, I'm Ron--Ron Weasley. Come on in. You two must be exhausted. You can have Fred and George's old room, Harry and Jordan, you can have Bill's."

As they were ushered into the house, and walked past the dining room table, Harry lowered his head, "I'm sorry I missed his wedding. How was it?"

"Nice. Fleur was beautiful! Well, Hermione and Mum cried of course. Bill, his face not quite back to normal, in dress robes, Fleur in this long, flow-y thing. They're in France now."

It was then Jordan realized that parts of the house were moving. Knitting needles were making a sweater. Eggswere scrambling on the stove. Laundry was being folded. She stopped, mouth open as the clock on the wall showed a hand with Harry's face on it. In an instant, the hand moved left to rest under the word "home."

"What is that?"

Harry smiled, "Isn't it great?"

"Harry, dear!" Mrs. Weasley came down the stairs and embraced her adopted son. "Dear boy, how are you? We missed you at Bill's wedding, but we knew there was a good reason."

"Yes, yes, I'll-I'll need to speak with you and Mr. Weasley, if you don't mind."

The corners of her eyes wrinkled as she looked concerned at the young man in her house. It had come as a shock when Ron had told them Harry wouldn't be able to make it and then it had been days since she had heard anything more about a visit. Trouble was in the air, she knew. "Yes, of course. Now who is this?"

"Oh, this is Jordan Taylor, my—um, neighbor. We've had some trouble with Voldemort. I hoped she could rest here for a little while."

As if she was answering, Mrs. Weasley gathered Jordan into her arms and brought her to the nearest chair. "Dear, dear…what has happened? You look so pale, so ill. What did He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named do to you?"

"Mother!" Ron shook his head. "Mother, she's a Muggle, please just say his name!"

"Ron, dear," Mrs. Weasley forced a smile to her face, suppressing a scolding she knew would upset Jordan further. "Get some of Fred and George's Bruise Removal Paste. Quickly, now…"

Jordan head spun at the activity in the tiny house. Harry and Ron sat in a corner and began conversing with their heads together. Ron's mother continued rubbing a foul smelling paste on her forehead and tittering to herself about how no one was safe anymore—witches or muggles.

"Can you tell me what happened, dear?"

"We were at Hogwarts," Jordan looked at Harry who was still deep in conversation. She didn't know how much he wanted to tell. "And Snape took me."

"Severus Snape?" Mrs. Weasley stood, nervously. "He was there? He's wanted for murder, don't you know!"

Harry and Ron broke apart then and came over to the women. "Mrs. Weasley, do you mind if I get Jordansettled? She needs sleep. Then I'll explain everything to you."

"Right, yes. Well, Mr. Weasley should be home shortly. You'll have our attention. Jordan, would you like a spot of breakfast before you lie down?"

"No, ma'am. I am very tired."

The older woman shook her head, "I've no doubt you are. Off to bed with you. Hurry back, Harry."

As they slowly climbed the crooked staircase, they could hear Mrs. Weasley instructing Ron to tidy up before his father came home. Fred and George's room, Harry told her, was at the top of the stairs and Bill's at the far end of the house.

"What if he comes back? Will you be able to get to me?" Jordan looked frightened at being that far removed.

"Yes, I will. I will be nearby and Ron's room is in between. He knows everything."

"Everything?"

Harry grimaced. "I had to tell him. I trust him."

"It's okay."

The room was very neat, just like its last occupant. Mrs. Weasley had added some feminine touches when her eldest son left: flowers, bright curtains and skeins of yarn.

Jordan looked around, "Is there—a shower?"

Harry laughed, "Of course, through there."

"Well, I wasn't sure. This is an entirely wizard house, isn't it?"

"Cool, eh?"

He gently lowered her to the bed. She lay there, trying to find a comfortable position for her aching body. He covered her with an afghan, and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"I'm alright, Harry."

"Just call me if you need me."

Harry kept looking back as he went down the hallway. He crept down the stairs, hoping she would make it through all of this. By the time he reached the kitchen again, Hermione was there. They hugged and began to eat the breakfast Mrs. Weasley had put on the table.

"Where's Ginny?" Harry tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice that she hadn't come to greet him. She had seemed okay with the notion that he would have to give up their relationship in order to fulfill his destiny.

The Weasleys all looked uncomfortably at each other. If Harry noticed it, he didn't say anything.

Hermione was the one who spoke. "She's in France with Bill and Fleur, helping them to fix up their house. She—may stay there finish school."

"Beauxbatons?" Harry asked incredulously, referring to the French version of Hogwarts.

Hermione nodded. Just then, Mr. Weasley walked in, removing his pointed wizard's hat. "Harry!"

Harry stood and Mr. Weasley shook his hand, firmly. "It's good to see you, sir."

"You too, and all in one piece. When we didn't see you at the wedding…"

"I know, sir. I'm sorry. But something came up…"

"Sit down, Arthur." Mrs. Weasley filled his plate with eggs, kippers and bacon. "Harry needs to speak with us."

Harry returned to his seat, and wondered where to start. He told them about Jordan, meeting her, talking with her and how Malfoy had threatened her in the park.

"A Cruciatus Curse?" Hermione said, appalled.

"Yes."

"So you left for Hogwarts?" Mr. Weasley nodded his head, the notion making perfect sense.

"Yes, but we ran into Dementors along the way. I think—Malfoy—had alerted Voldemort about me."

He continued by talking about their tour of the school and ending up by the Mirror of Erised. He told them about the lights going out and about Jordan's disappearance. "Something told me to go to Snape's office. Then I felt her. I knew she was nearby but I couldn't figure out where."

Harry stood, began pacing. "It didn't make any sense. If Voldemort wanted me, why did he make me work so hard? She could have died by the time I got there!"

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked at each other, and Ron at Hermione. It was obvious Harry liked this woman and it insulted Ron a bit. "But she didn't, Harry."

"I know, but Snape was torturing her, cutting her, using that Sectum Sempra spell I learned in his old Potions book. There was blood everywhere. I couldn't get to her. Each time I tried, I shocked her. Snape said it was my fault, that I was doing it on my own."

"How?" Asked Hermione.

"I don't know."

"When did You-Know-Who arrive?" Mrs. Weasley asked, shivering.

"I don't know. He may have been there the whole time. Snape wasn't even real. He was an image, like a movie. I even tried the Avada Kadavra curse on him…"

"Harry…" Hermione breathed.

"…but it never even reached him. Voldemort spoke then. He-he ordered me to find one of the horcruxes within two weeks or he would kill her."

"Dear Lord!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, pouring more coffee with trembling hands.

"Why did he send her with you? Wouldn't it have been better for him if he kept her there?" Ron spoke quietly.

"If I don't find one or destroy the one I find, he will kill her in front of me." Harry's face fell. The thought of this was still difficult to bear. He saw Dumbledore die; he couldn't watch something like that again.

"Which one?" Ron asked.

"Any one…Iguess I'd need to go after the cup owned by Helga Hufflepuff or an item belonging to Rowena Ravenclaw or Godric Griffyndor."

Mr. Weasley put his dishes in the sink, where water magically began running and soap brought bubbles to the surface. "Where do you suppose you should look?"

"That's what I wanted to ask you all. I have some ideas…"

"Antique shops?" Hermione asked. "Isn't that where Tom Riddle found a lot when he was working for Borgin and Burkes?"

"--And by killing the people who owned them." Ron said, forlornly.

"Yes, that's a very good idea, Hermione, very good." Mrs. Weasley continued to clear away the dishes. The magic dishwasher was now hard at work.

"Should I start at Borgin and Burkes, then?"

"I don't think so, Harry." said Mr. Weasley. "It would be long gone from there by now. It would probably be in a shop of one of Voldemort's old haunts."

"Where Hepzibah Smith lived, maybe?" asked Ron.

"No," Harry said, realization dawning on him. "Little Hangleton--where his mother grew up. I'll bet you anything that one of the horcruxes is there."

Hermione jumped up, wringing her hands, "So that's it, then? That's where you'll start?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Well, not until Jordan's strong enough to travel, Harry." Mrs. Weasley kissed her husband on the cheek as he said his good-byes and headed upstairs. "Have a visit with Ron and Hermione. I have errands to run."

Harry nodded and let her envelop him in a bone-crushing hug. "I'll-I'll be fine, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you for your help."

"Do be careful, Harry." she whispered. "Do be careful."

When everyone was gone, Harry excused himself to check on Jordan. He knew Ron and Hermione wanted to say something to him, but it would have to wait. She was sleeping peacefully and he couldn't bring himself to move from the doorway.

"Harry…" Hermione whispered. "Harry, I need to talk to you."

"Okay."

They went into Fred and George's room. Boxes of leftover stock meant for their highly successful joke shop stood in piles around the room and Harry glanced at some of the product names as he passed. _Canary Creams_. _Headless Hats_.

"This woman, Harry, how well do you know her?"

He sat on the bed, wondering where the conversation was going. He shrugged, "Not well, I guess. She started talking to me back home. We got along."

"I think she might be working for Voldemort."

"What!" He stood, stared at her. "Where is this coming from? I'm not trying to hurt Ginny. She's not even here. So why…?"

"Calm down! This has nothing to do with Ginny." Hermione paced again, stopping to look out the window. This wasn't going to be easy. "How come she shows up to take your mind off being with your aunt and uncle, just at the moment Malfoy finds you?"

"I don't know. I don't care. I've never felt like this before."

"Of course you haven't, Harry, because Voldemort wanted her to seduce you, bring you to him."

"Then why hurt her?"

"Voldemort doesn't care who he hurts. He's never stood behind any of his followers. He's killed them if they got in his way. Besides, she probably would sacrifice herself for him. Most of them do."

Harry took out his wand, aimed it at her. "Take it back!"

"Harry!" Hermione's look of shock cut Harry to the core. "What are you doing? You've never raised your wand to me before."

"Yeah, well, I haven't done a lot of things before! Things that maybe I should have! Jordan is the best thing that's ever happened to me. And no matter how she got to Little Whinging, I have to see this through or she'll die and it will be my fault—like my parents."

"Your parents' death wasn't your fault, Harry," came Ron's voice from the door.

He turned on Ron, waving his wand. "You're both in on this!"

"We're not in on anything. We just think it's strange that she shows up in your life right before you're on the run again."

"For your information, it is my fault. I-I have felt--…" He couldn't bring himself to say it, "_dark_ lately. I haven't been able to control my magic. Maybe it's the scar, maybe it's Voldemort working through me. I don't know. But for your information…" he began again.

"What?"

"I kidnapped her! I took her to Hogwarts because I was mad she wouldn't be with me!"

Ron moved toward him and Harry steeled himself, held his wand straighter, hand trembling slightly.

"Expelliarmus!" came Jordan's voice and Harry's wand went flying.

She stood, pale and shaking at the door, covered in the afghan. Harry sat on the bed, head in his hands. Ron and Hermione went to him, worried over the state of their best friend.

Ron looked at her, "I thought—I thought you were—a Muggle."

"I am."

Hermione smiled wryly. "So am I, Ron."

"So was my mother." Harry talked through his hands. "Jordan has magical power she didn't know about. She disarmed Snape. She-she's done other things." He remembered being thrown against the wall in the boy's lavatory at Hogwarts.

"Come on, Ron." Hermione pulled him up, and they slowly left the room.

"Harry, what are you doing? You need them." Jordan leaned against the door jamb.

"I know. They were talking about you…I couldn't…"

"If you fail, I'm going to die. I don't want to die."

He went to her and took her in his arms. "I won't let you die."

"Then please hold your temper."

Reaching behind one of the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes boxes to retrieve his wand, Harry couldn't help but laugh. "You, too."

"It is getting easier."

"Well, that's good." Harry walked her out of the room and back toward her own. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes, a little."

"Go back to bed. I'll get you something and bring it up."

"Okay." Jordan felt exhausted just from the walk down the hall, and gratefully climbed into bed.

Harry busied himself in the kitchen, wondering if Hermione could be right. He had asked himself why Jordan appeared at that precise moment. Could she be one of Voldemort's followers? He stared up at the clock on the wall that now bore his name. Mrs. Weasley's face was pointed toward shopping, Ron was outside, Ginny was in France, Fred and George were at work and Mr. Weasley was in bed.

"Can I help?" Hermione moved to stand beside him.

"I think you've done enough, already."

"I'm so sorry, Harry. I am just worried about you."

"Look, you have Ron. I think that's brilliant, but I don't have anyone."

"That was your choice. Ginny could be here right now."

Harry put a sandwich on a plate with some potato chips and grabbed a napkin and some pumpkin juice out of the refrigerator. "That's different."

"How? Voldemort got to you through Jordan too, didn't he?"

"But she's older, she's…"

"I don't want to argue. Let me bring this upstairs to her. I can apologize."

He hesitated giving her the plate. If he didn't check on her every few moments, he was afraid she'd vanish. "Okay…"

Hermione saw Jordan with her eyes closed and wondered if it was a good idea to disturb her. But it was food…"Jordan."

"Yes?" Jordan sat up when she saw the plate. "Where's Harry?"

"Downstairs. I asked to bring this up. I wanted to talk to you." Hermione shut the door behind her and gave Jordan the sandwich.

"What's this?" Jordan gestured to the glass.

"Pumpkin juice. It's great."

"What did you want to talk about?"

"How you and Harry met."

"He didn't tell you?" She took a bite of the sandwich and realized how truly hungry she was. "No?"

"No."

"I moved from America to work on my book and to lecture at some of the universities here. I write mostly all day and then take a walk at night—kind of my ritual. I had seen Harry in the park and—he always looked so sad. One day, I just asked him if he was alright. Soon, he took my walks with me."

"What do you write about?"

"History. American History."

"Oh…"

"Many colonists came over to America from England in the 16th and 17th Centuries. I do a lot of work out of university archives. Well, that's what connects me to your country."

"How did you find out you had magic?"

"Harry told me I did, because when I touched his scar, it hurt him."

Hermione didn't say anything but turned away from Jordan. She didn't know what to believe. Why would a stranger touch Harry's scar? Why would she be near Privet Drive except to find Harry?

"You don't believe me do you?"

"I care for Harry."

"I can see you do."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Have you and Harry…?"

"No! No! What kind of a question is that? I'm older than he is…well, I'm…"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. He likes you so much. I don't want him to get hurt."

Jordan smiled, grimly. "Neither did I. That's where this whole mess started."

"He told us. He got mad at you…"

"And now look at me."

Hermione saw her pale face, the bruises, now much lighter, on her face, and wondered what horrible things she had gone through. "What did Snape do?"

"He cut me, mostly. With some curse. I've never felt such pain."

"Well, hopefully, you'll never have to feel it again." Hermione smiled, vowing to help Harry as she knew Ron would.

"Unless we don't find the horcrux in the next week and a half." Jordan moved to the window, and saw Harry and Ron talking outside. "Then I'll be dead."

Chapter Eight

A First Attempt

The Weasleys brought Harry and Jordan to the train station in the morning. Mr. Weasley's new position at the Ministry of Magic gave him the use of chauffeured cars to get around the Muggle world and he took advantage of them now and then. It was a clear, brilliant summer day, and to those who did not know what Harry Potter was actually looking for, it would have seemed he was off for a holiday poking in antique shops.

Jordan found them an empty compartment on the train, one that would be away from tourists and morning commuters. One was available toward the back. Harry felt naked without his broom but knew that it would be easier to find the horcrux if he and Jordan blended in with the Muggle-world.

She sat heavily in a seat by the window. Harry locked the compartment door and took the booth across from her. She had put her head back and closed her eyes. Every time he looked at her pale face, he felt worse about what he had done—if that was possible. But now it was too late—she was stuck with him. Harry only hoped that someday she would like being with him as much as he did with her.

"Are you feeling alright?"

Jordan looked at him and smiled, "I'm fine."

"Look, Jordan, I'm…I'm--…"

"It's alright, Harry. I'm fine. We'll find this thing, whatever it is, and then my life can get back to normal."

The truth was, he doubted her life would ever go back to normal. And for the first time in _his_ life, he wished that he had not been told six years ago that he was a wizard. That, no matter how miserable it had been, he would have just stayed with the Dursleys. He would have finished school, gone on to university, and moved away. He never would have known how his parents were killed, never would have realized how much danger he was in, and how just by being near him, so many others had put themselves in danger. He suddenly longed to be a regular kid.

"I have to find a telephone, Harry." Jordan snapped him out of his reverie. "My agent—my family—they are probably so worried. I-I don't even know how long we've been gone."

"Sure...you can use the one in the hotel."

Mr. Weasley had been able to get hold of some Muggle money and Jordan still had her credit cards in her wallet. Luckily, the wizards she'd run into so far had no interest in robbing her.

It was a long train ride. Little Hangleton was in Yorkshire, about 100 miles from where the Weasleys lived and over 200 miles from Harry and Jordan's homes in Little Whinging. It was nearly dark by the time they reached the small seaside town. They hardly spoke, except for when Harry told her the story of how Tom Riddle killed his father in 1944. The Muggle police had arrested the family gardener, Frank Bryce for the murder, while the wizarding world blamed the tragedy on the wayward son of the Gaunt family, Riddle's uncle, and heir to Salazaar Slytherin.

"So when murders take place, not all of them are really done by normal—I mean, one muggle killing another. Sometimes, it's…" Jordan felt more nervous than before, knowing that wizards walked among her every day and killed if they felt like it.

"A wizard murder? Yes."

"This Voldemort's a piece of work…"

"You don't know the half of it."

"Harry?" Jordan asked, hugging herself for warmth. "After all this time, I never thought to ask…what is a horcrux?"

He moved to sit beside her. He slowly put his arm around her shoulders and gathered her close. She wasn't going to like what she heard.

"Oh, my God!" She said, after he was finished. The train had just slowed and Jordan and he rose, stretched and headed out of the compartment.

Jordan didn't say anything as they joined the queue that wound its way down the corridor and out the doors. A porter helped her to the ground and then Harry took her hand and looked for the hotel.

To be able to separate one's soul, especially into seven pieces, was impossible. It had to be! And to know that the only way this seemingly impossible task could be accomplished was to murder at least seven times--was more than Jordan could take. Voldemort had hidden these parts of his soul in ordinary objects. Harry's job would be to find one. Apparently, before his school headmaster had been killed, they had come close and failed.

That didn't make Jordan feel confident they could do it this time.

Harry reserved a room for them, one with two beds in it, so she would feel comfortable. He told her he was going to take a shower in order to give her more time to make her phone calls. The lie she told her agent came easily: that she had been in an accident and couldn't remember where she was for a couple days. Nigel told her to take all the time she needed to recover and that they would re-schedule the lectures as soon as she felt better. Jordan said she would call him again in a few days.

Taking her calling card out, she dialed her mother's house with trembling hands.

"Mom?"

"Jordan! Hi, honey! How's England?"

Jordan bit her lip to stop herself from crying. "Oh, it's fine, Mom."

"I'm surprised you haven't called sooner. You've been busy?"

"Yes, they've got me lecturing and traveling a lot. I'm sorry I haven't called."

"Are you still coming home next week?"

At this, Jordan couldn't answer. Would she? Would she be dead? Tears rolled down her cheeks at the realization of how fragile her life had suddenly become. "I-I don't know, Mom."

"What's wrong?" Her mother's voice changed tone.

"Nothing. I'm just—I just miss you, that's all. The lectures—well, they want to squeeze some more in before I go."

"That's exciting! You're doing great!"

"Thanks…well, I've got to go. My card…"

"Take care of yourself. And call me again when you can so I know you're alright."

"I will. I love you."

"I love you, too, darling."

When Harry came out of the bathroom, Jordan still held onto the phone and she was crying in heaving, silent sobs. He closed his eyes, feeling like he would also cry if he let himself. Instead, he ran to her, put the phone back in the cradle, then held her, rocking her until she gained control.

"I may never see them again." She said, quietly.

"I won't let that happen." Harry's voice was just as quiet, but fierce.

"How can you say that?" Jordan moved away from him, walked around the room with its floral wallpaper and china tea set in the corner. "Harry, you have no control over what _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ does, do you? He could be here right now, watching us, getting ready to strike!"

Harry knew she was making fun of Voldemort's name and the way so many wizards couldn't bring themselves to even speak it. But was she right? Was he fighting a losing battle?

He shook his head, "I can't think that way, Jordan, or we will surely lose."

She knew her attitude would only ruin his chances. She wiped her eyes, then went to him. "You're right. We have to think positive. You'll find this thing and then we'll figure out what to do next. I'm not going to let you become part of him."

Harry let her hug him, enjoying the warmth of her arms. But now he wasn't so sure that finding the horcrux would be the hard part. What if he was forced to drink it or absorb it or whatever else Voldemort would make him do? There had already been more times than he could count when Voldemort seemed to possess him. The Dark Lord had invaded Harry's thoughts and dreams, had made his scar burn with such a fierceness Harry had been ill.

"Come on, let's get some sleep." He suggested. "It's been a long day."

They slept until Housekeeping rapped on the door the next day. Harry rolled over and put on his glasses, squinting as the sunshine threaded its way through the blinds on the windows. The clock read 10:30 and Harry called that they were still in the room, but would be leaving within the hour.

Jordan stretched and felt less sore than she had the day before. She smiled at Harry, who looked adorable with his hair sticking up in the back. It reminded her of how he looked when she first saw him on the swing in the park. The two dressed and decided to forego breakfast, getting coffee while they searched the antique shops along the street below.

"There are a lot of tourists here." She whispered as they approached the Farmer's Market area so common in small English towns.

"Well, it's summer…" He took her hand. "Now, let's look like we're on holiday too. Not like we're trying to save our own necks."

"Right."

They lost themselves in the different shops, some of which had mounds of small trinkets: jewelry, silverware, eyeglasses, wine decanters, sewing items and even apothecary jars. Harry told her they were looking for goblets. At one o'clock, stomachs grumbling, they finally turned into a shop called Annabelle's Antiques. Both decided this would be the last stop before lunch. Jordan noticed a cemetery out the back window and while Harry browsed, she stepped out the back door to take a look.

It was small, with dilapidated gray stones in uneven lines. A black fence surrounded the graveyard. Jordan stepped inside and slowly walked around, reading the names. The wind picked up. Jordan looked toward the sky and noticed a black cloud racing to cover the sun.

"Great!" She thought, hugging herself, "It's going to rain…" She knew she had to find Harry. As she began to walk back the way she came, a figure stepped out at her from behind a tree. Jordan yelped. It was Snape; she could tell instantly, by his height and bearing. He wore a black robe and Jordan wondered why the crowds that were there a moment ago had suddenly vanished so that she might as well have been alone with him.

Her heart raced. Snape could only mean one thing—pain. "What do you want?" She hissed.

He smiled, grimly. "Come now. I know you weren't feeling well, but I'm sure you heard the Dark Lord when he told young Potter that I would be checking up on you."

"We're still looking."

"I suggest you get moving. Time is running out."

"We have well over a week!"

His hand went out quickly, and with it, Jordan felt herself being thrown back. She hit the dirt with a thud, the air being forced from her lungs. He was over her instantly. Jordan lay there, looking up at him, bracing herself for what would come next.

"Don't speak to me in that tone, ever. I can tolerate Potter's lack of respect, but you ought never to forget how easily I could kill you—and not care."

"You can't kill me. Voldemort would be angry."

"I will take my chances."

Jordan used the same technique, the one she had used with Harry at Hogwarts, the one Snape had just used on her. He fell backward, hard, over a headstone. She jumped to her feet, steadying herself as if she were riding a skateboard. Snape stood, quickly, angry and embarrassed.

"You little bitch! Cruc—!"

"No!" Harry yelled, running over to them.

Snape snapped his fingers and vanished into a stream of light. Jordan's knees were trembling and her breath was coming in short gasps. Harry held her for a moment, trying to ignore the stinging on his forehead.

"I wondered where you went. What are you doing?"

"I saw this cemetery. I-I just wanted to look at it."

"Don't you know that Voldemort is just waiting for the moment that you're alone?"

"I--I didn't...?"

"He wants to make sure you're sufficiently afraid of him." Harry's hand finally went to his forehead.

"Well, he doesn't have to worry about that."

"That probably wasn't even really Snape. Just a decoy—a reminder. Don't give him cause to corner you! Ow!" His scar burned terribly. His eyesight began to swim, and he felt sick to his stomach.

"What's wrong?"

"Move away from me, Jordan."

"What? Why?"

"Just—do it." Blackness was washing over him. He felt himself sinking to the ground and grabbed on to a broken headstone to stop his fall.

Jordan backed away and wondered why no one was around to help them. It was surreal. Where had all the tourists gone? It was as if stepping into the graveyard had taken them to another dimension.

"Harry?" She called. "Harry? Are you alright?"

The pain subsided a bit when she moved away. He was on one knee, and he noticed the ground was muddy and cold, as if it had just rained. His vision cleared and his stomach settled. He looked down and saw the gravestone and it registered; where he was, what he had seen during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, when Cedric Diggory had died in front of him.

"Harry?"

"I'm—I'm alright. I've been here before."

"You have?"

"Yes, a couple years ago. I was in this tournament for school. The last challenge, well, I was tricked into coming here. The trophy was a Portkey."

"A what?"

Harry stood, wobbling for a moment. He explained to Jordan the purpose of a Portkey and then told her of his encounter with Voldemort, how he had been surrounded by Death Eaters and seen Cedric killed.

Jordan shook her head. "Why here?"

"This is where he became human again. This is where he stole his body."

"Human?" Jordan laughed, scornfully. "He's not human…he's a monster."

"Come on…we're not going to find anything here. Let's go closer to where his father's house was. Maybe we'll do better there."

"Harry, I have to get something to eat. I know you're probably not hungry, but…"

"No, that's alright."

They ate at the hotel restaurant. As Jordan had her sandwich, Harry played with his food. He should have known that Voldemort wouldn't make this easy for him. Harry only took hope in the fact that he wouldn't die in the attempt. Voldemort would want Harry to join him and the Death Eaters. Finding the horcrux would be difficult, but not impossible.

Chapter Nine

A Dead End

They spent the next three days combing every antique shop around both Great and Little Hangleton. Jordan was getting nervous and Harry was frustrated. What was he doing wrong? Was he unable to get the job done without Sirius and Dumbledore? Had the whole "Chosen One" thing been a ruse? Was he really nothing after all—the way Snape had told him for years?

It was the end of a long day of searching. Jordan opened the door to the hotel room and threw the key on the bureau. She took off her jacket and laid it over the chair and waited for Harry to give his take on their next move. It had become a ritual.

Harry turned on the lights and said, "Well, we must be close. We did find that goblet."

"But you said you felt nothing."

He sat down heavily and wrung his hands. "I didn't. Why can't I find the bloody thing?"

Jordan sat next to him, "We're close. We have to be. You're sure it's here?"

"Yes, well, I was. How much time do we have left?"

"A week—exactly."

_Not much time_, he thought. He had to think of a plan fast. He would need to take a risk. Just hope he returned in time. "Jordan, I'm going to have to be alone for awhile. To think. Figure out what to do."

"Harry…please."

He winced at the desperation in her voice. "I promise I'll be back soon. I won't be far."

"No…he'll come here."

Harry closed his eyes and stood. "I know. But I will be near by. I have to do this."

Tears of fear leaked out of Jordan's eyes and Harry stood, knowing his resolve would melt if he didn't leave. Grabbing the key, he walked out and down to the lobby. Jordan went to the window and saw him, fighting the wind that had picked up outside. She saw him walking toward the direction of the graveyard.

She began to pace back and forth. Why was he going there? What did he expect to find—an epiphany among the stones? Did he expect to gain some internal wisdom from the spot where Voldemort gained his body?

Jordan was consumed by a bad feeling and grabbed her jacket. As she opened the door, the lights suddenly went out. She gasped and willed her eyes to adjust. All was eerily silent; she knew someone was there.

"Snape?"

When there was no answer, she tried again, "Malfoy?"

Who could it be? She ran to the door just as it shut with a quiet, deadly click in front of her. Jordan stifled a scream and began to tug at the knob. "Please…" She growled. "Let me out!"

There was quiet laughter. Her heart pounded so hard inside her chest she thought she would be sick. Hot breath played upon her neck.

"Who's there?" She asked again.

Slowly, she was pushed up against the door. Something—someone--pressed her there, squeezing the breath out of her. A hot pain seared through her head, paralyzing her, making her incapable of sound or movement. The pain felt as though it was red in color, or maybe orange, and it was slicing her in two, yet, she couldn't move, curl up, protect herself.

Using every ounce of strength she had left, her mind cleared itself, "Finite Incantatem…" The pain decreased, but did not go away. Maybe she had imagined it. "Finite Incantatem!"

Suddenly she could breathe. Jordan stepped away from the door, her head spinning. "Tell me who's there!"

"You _are_ getting stronger. Maybe it would do well to have you join the Dark Lord, not Potter!"

"Malfoy!"

"You remember me, then?" The boy seemed older, strained under the pressure of his new responsibilities.

"How could I forget. You only seem to bring—pain—with you."

"I am good at dark spells, unforgivable curses."

"Snape just came to see me, only a couple days ago. Surely…"

"I don't answer to Snape! I don't need to check his schedule before I do something!" Malfoy's face became taut.

Jordan jumped at his outburst. "I only meant…"

"You would be better off to shut up, woman!"

Jordan obeyed, wondering instead what she could do to get out of there. She knew no spells except what Harry and Hermione had the time to teach her before they left the Burrow.

Malfoy began to circle her slowly, leering at her. "I wonder what Potter sees in you. You are so much—older…"

"He sees nothing remotely like what you are inferring--in me. We are simply friends."

"After what I was told happened at Hogwarts? Ha! Potter has let his sickening feelings of love entrap him again!"

She decided not to say anything more. Instead she moved away from his gaze. He grinned and kept walking around her. "Of course, if he truly loved you, why would he be stupid enough to leave you alone? He must know that you have a pack of Death Eaters watching you, making sure you decide not to escape back to your family until the Dark Lord gets what he wants."

Her heart jumped into her throat at the mention of her family. How much did they know? "And—what does he want?"

"Potter—unfortunately. But I've learned now not to question."

"And I'm the bait."

"You're more than that," Malfoy sneered. "Much more."

"Petrificus Totalus!" Jordan yelled.

Malfoy was immobilized. He fell backward with a sickening thud. His mind whirled. How could she do such spell-work without a wand? He was trapped inside his body, angry at himself for becoming distracted, for playing with her, instead of doing his master's bidding.

"Now," Jordan looked down at him. "How about a taste of your own medicine…?"

The blond-haired boy's eyes grew wide with fear. He had no idea what she was capable of, little more idea than she had herself. She moved back from him, and said clearly, "Cruc--!"

"You'd be wise to stop…" Severus Snape stood behind her.

"Lumos!" Jordan spread a blue light throughout the room. The former Potions professor looked grim, almost sorry he had to do what was before him. She knew better than that, though.

In a second, Malfoy was up on his feet. Snape took him by the back of his robes and threw him against the wall. He bounced away and hit the floor, not moving. Jordan gasped, audibly.

"Did you---come here to save him?"

"From you?" He laughed, haughtily. "From a meddlesome woman who thinks she knows a bit of magic?"

"Then why are you here?"

"Because you need to learn to mind your own business. You need to learn your place in these proceedings. You are a means to an end, nothing more. The Dark Lord…"

"Voldemort!" She spat. "Why can't you say it?"

"Because it's disrespectful. Respect is something both you and Potter obviously need to learn. He did right in hooking up with you, it seems. You're both cut from the same mold."

"I suppose the Dark Lord is watching now?"

"No, he does not need to watch when I am in charge. I do his bidding, just as he requests. He does not need to know how I do it."

"But Malfoy…"

"Malfoy is young, new. He still needs to be taught one or two things."

Snape circled around Jordan as Malfoy had done earlier. The room looked odd with its blue glow, and Jordan wondered if people below could see it—or here the commotion for that matter.

"Muggles see only what they want to."

Jordan moved out of Snape's circle and stood behind a chintz chair. "I am a Muggle and I would notice it."

"But you're not a Muggle, really, are you?"

"Harry will be back."

"Not for a time, he won't." Snape smiled.

Jordan ran to the window. She couldn't see anything in the dark, with the glow shining behind her. Was he unconscious? Did Voldemort have him?

"Nox!" She cried, and the room went dark.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts master began moving toward her in slow, deliberate steps. She had nowhere to go, and felt the presence of the wall only inches from her. "Stupe—!"

He was too quick, "Protego!"

_Protego_, she thought…she would need to remember that in this crash course of wizardry she was taking.

He moved his want up to her head and then down to her abdomen and legs. "Where? Where should be begin?"

"Please...I can't take it anymore!"

"Precisely why we do it! Mobilicorpus!"

Jordan shrieked as she was levitated, inches off the ground. Snape pointed his wand toward the heavy wooden desk chair. "What are you doing?"

"Finite Incantatem!" He swished his wand and Jordan fell, unceremoniously in a heap on theedge. "Incarcerous!"

Ropes appeared out of nowhere and wrapped themselves around her wrists, securing her firmly to the carved chair arms. She squirmed but her bindings were tight enough to cut into her skin. What was he going to do?

"Please, Snape, don't…"

"Don't what, dear girl? Don't touch you? Oh, trust me, I have no intention of touching anything Muggle born. But hurting you is something else entirely. You see, it intrigues me that you have some magic in you. But you must learn who is the master here."

"The way you taught Malfoy?" Jordan still tried in vain against her ropes. She felt the blood run down her arm.

"Silence!" His hair covered his face and only left his long, crooked nose protruding. "Crucio!"

Jordan screamed as the pain washed over her again. Just as she brought her knees to her chest, the ropes appeared and bound her feet as well. She thrashed her head from side to side and through blurred and watering eyes saw Snape laughing. Just when she thought it couldn't get any worse, her hands and legs were free and the room was empty, except for the dying echoes of maniacal laughter.

She couldn't summon the strength to move. In a moment, Harry apparated into the room. He rushed to her, lifted her head and knelt in front of her. "I tried to get to you…as soon as I could, but someone cursed me. I couldn't move."

"Please…I can't take it anymore. Please, make it stop."

"It's over, Jordan. It's stopped. I'm so sorry." He took his shirt and wiped the blood from her arms.

"Harry, I want to go home!"

"Jordan, you know we can't. Try to hang on. This is what they want…this is what they're good at. They'll torture you until you've gone mad. And Snape would like nothing that to force me to watch you go mad. So, please hang on. We can beat him. You're strong—much stronger than you think."

He stroked her hair and slowly, she closed her eyes and let the exhaustion wash over her body. "Besides," Harry whispered. "We're leaving in the morning. I know what to do next."

"What?" She asked, quietly.

"I should have known it would never be this easy. When Dumbledore and I went to find the necklace, we went through a lot of dangerous obstacles. Why would this be as simple as just finding the Hufflepuff goblet?"

"This has been _simple_?"

"No, Jordan, it hasn't, but it's about to get worse. We're going to find a snake."

Chapter Ten

A Second Attempt

"A snake?" Jordan didn't like snakes. "What are you talking about?"

"I know what to do next. Dumbledore once told me that Voldemort's snake, Nagini, could be a horcrux. She is never very far from Voldemort, so I may have been doing all this running around for nothing."

Jordan moved to the window, panicked. "No, Harry…that means we have to go back…"

"To Hogwarts. Yes, we do."

She stayed silent. The idea of searching for a dangerous snake scared her, but to have to return to Harry's school was revolting. This wasn't an adventure; it certainly wasn't fun. Jordan truly didn't know how much more she could take.

"I'm tired, Harry. I'd like to go to bed."

"Oh, erm—sure." He felt insulted, as if he had just been dismissed.

Harry tried to read one of the textbooks that he brought with him while Jordan dozed. He couldn't concentrate and felt suddenly very distant from her. Putting his feet up on the windowsill, Harry watched her sleep. As he stared at her peaceful face, with her mouth open just a little and the steady pattern with which her graceful stomach moved up and down, he realized that he knew nothing about her. It had only been a matter of hours that they had known each other before all this happened. He was so used to not having a family, not having anyone to answer to that he had just arbitrarily plucked Jordan right out of her life—and may have made sure she could never go back.

Harry covered his eyes with his hands. What he had done was wrong, completely unfair and dangerous for both of them. But there was nothing he could do to change it. Not now. There was nothing Harry and Jordan could do but follow Voldemort's game through to the end—whatever that meant.

He put his head back and closed his eyes. He hated his life right at that moment.

The next morning, Harry and Jordan ate breakfast in their room. They had checked out and packed. Jordan left Harry to formulate his plan on how he would first lure and then capture Nagini.

"Will she know you're there?"

"I think Voldemort probably will. Snape and Malfoy and whoever else Voldemort's got watching out for us will make sure the Dark Lord knows we've arrived, but even if we get there undetected, I can call her."

"Call her? How?" Jordan buttered a piece of toast and moved to take the strawberry preserves from his grasp.

"I speak Parseltongue."

Jordan just looked at him, and laughed. This couldn't be happening. "And what exactly is Parseltongue?"

"Well, I can talk snake language. I didn't know I could do it, until Ron and Hermione told me. I feel like I'm speaking English, but I guess it comes out snake-like." Harry didn't know why, but he felt himself blushing.

Before Jordan could say anymore, there was one loud rap on the door. Both became quiet, and froze where they were. The knock came again and Jordan moved silently toward the door. Harry nodded and took out his wand.

"Harry, we know you're in there. Open up."

Harry cocked his head, completely surprised. "Go ahead, Jordan." And as she turned the knob, "But slowly, just in case."

Standing on the other side of the door was one of Harry's former professors and his new girlfriend, two members of the Order of the Phoenix, the society formed solely to eradicate the threat to the world that was once again Lord Voldemort—new and improved.

Standing on the other side of the door was Remus Lupin, who had thwarted Severus Snape's attempt at taking the open slot of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in Harry's third year. He had become a close friend of Harry's, mainly because he had been close friends with Lily and James Potter and Sirius Black, Harry's parents and godfather. Nymphadora Tonks, with bright pink hair that caused Jordan to gasp despite her good manners, was also a member of the Order and even closer now to Lupin.

"What are you doing here?" Harry didn't know whether to be happy that they found him, or upset because they tried.

"Harry, I spoke with Molly and Arthur Weasley." Remus shook Harry's hand as Nymphadora quickly shut the door behind them.

"Ah, you did?"

"Yes, this is foolish."

Jordan watched anxiously as Harry's face went dark. He paced, nearly upsetting the table that held their unfinished breakfast. "Oh, don't go and tell me I'm being ungrateful for all that my mother did for me. Please? Spare me?"

Remus frowned, and in his tattered clothes, looked more like a pauper than a wizard. "The perils of youth...," he muttered to himself and then turned to Harry, "I wasn't going to tell you that. But your life is in danger."

"More hers than mine right now, Remus." Harry crooked his thumb toward Jordan, who stood awkwardly near the door. "She will die if I don't do this."

"But there must be other ways, 'Arry!" Tonks spoke up.

"No, there isn't. Dumbledore wanted me to go on and find the horcruxes. You know that! I certainly couldn't save my parents, Sirius died in front of me…I'm not letting Dumbledore's death go unavenged. He asked me to do this! And if I don't, Voldemort will kill her!"

"I'm Jordan, by the way." Jordan held out her hand to the disheveled man.

"Remus Lupin. Nice to meet you."

Harry took a deep breath and tried to manage his emotions. "I appreciate your coming here. I really do. But this is something I must do on my own. I can't keep relying on the Order to save me forever."

Jordan grimaced. At that moment, she personally welcomed anyone who could get what faced them over with quickly and safely. "Harry…"

"No, Jordan! Come on, we have to go."

"Just tell me where you're headed next." Remus wanted to pound sense into Harry, but knew it wouldn't work. He was just as stubborn as his father had been.

"Come off it!"

"Do you think we can't—or aren't—'aving you followed already?" Tonks took Lupin's hand, protectively.

Harry grabbed his coat and their backpacks, "Then take a number, because that's a popular pastime lately!"

He strode out the door, past their visitors and left Jordan standing there, embarrassed and frightened. "I'm-I'm sorry."

"Be careful." Remus whispered. "We'll do our best."

"Thank you…"

She had to run to catch up with him. He was walking purposefully as if trying to escape the yolk of youth. "Harry, wait!"

"What, did you make plans with him about where he could meet up with us later?" Harry turned on her, nearly shouting.

Jordan stepped back, "No! And keep your voice down!"

"Oh, I just bet you let him know that I wasn't handling it all very well."

"Don't be ridiculous!"

He began walking again, muttering to himself. "Ridiculous, I'll bet! They always think they have to come and save me, half the time never even telling me what's going on. Keeping little Harry in the dark. I'm not a child anymore and I know all of what's going on now! I will save you—I will save us!"

She shook her head, taking her backpack from him. "How are we getting there?"

"We'll have to disapparate, of course. No broomstick and the Hogwarts Express isn't running."

"Don't get mad at me. I didn't invite them!"

Harry stopped, out of breath. "I know. I just get so tired of being treated like a child. No one understands what I've been through. More than 100 lifetimes, it seems. I know how to handle myself. I know what it feels like to be a man."

Jordan put a hand on his arm, "I know you do. I could see it in your eyes the moment I met you."

He smiled, feeling lighter than he had in days, "Thanks."

Once they found a spot that was quiet, Jordan held onto Harry and they disapparated. Harry thought hard about the Gryffindor Common Room at Hogwarts. With school not in session, there was no problem using magic to get in and out of the building.

Jordan shook herself off, "I don't like how that feels."

"Me, either. I'd much rather fly."

"Well, since I'm not too sure about that either…"

Harry wandered a little and then sat at the table, the _Magic Moste Evile_ book opened right where he had left it. "Jordan, before we start this…I, well, I don't know anything about you."

Jordan sat across from him, surprised at the turn the conversation had taken. "What do you mean?"

"Well, how old are you?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Too old for you."

"Jordan, really, I want to know."

"How old do you think I am?"

Harry weighed this carefully. The little he knew about girls (especially since nearly every conversation he had with Cho Chang ended up in her crying), included not makingthe mistake of saying she was an age she thought was too old. Truthfully, though, he was sure she couldn't be more than five or six years older than he. "I don't know…25 or 26."

That was a good answer, she thought, albeit a well-digested one. "Let's say, closer to 30."

When he didn't say anything, she continued. "That is why, Harry, nothing can happen between us, despite your tendency to kiss me whenever you feelt like it. And the fact I let you."

His head went down with embarrassment.

She smiled at his reaction, "And despite what Malfoy might think."

Harry's head popped back up. "What did Malfoy say?"

"He said that he didn't know what you saw in me, since I was so much older than you. I said we were just friends and then Malfoy…"

"What did he say?"

"Malfoy said that he knew you had—feelings—for me."

"Oh…"

Jordan got up and went to the window. It was going to be another sunny day. She thought it was strange how deceptive the weatherat Hogwarts was. She could feel him staring at her.

"What about your family?" Harry asked. "What about them?"

She whirled toward him. "No, Harry! I can't talk about them. What if…what if they use what you know about them against me?"

"Jordan, I…"

"No, Malfoy knows something already. He mentioned my wanting to escape, to go home to them. I can't risk it."

"Alright," he went to her, put hishands on hers. "It's alright. I understand."

She moved away, satat the table again. "What about you? I know your parents died, but don't you have any other family?"

"No…well, you know the Dursleys, where I lived...that was my mother's sister's house. But I wouldn't call them family. Other than that, there was only Sirius, and he wasn't even blood-related. He was my godfather."

She put her hands under her chin and watched him with sad eyes. He was so alone. He had no one with whom to share anything; no one to call or see when he was lonely. She called her mother almost every day.

"My father died, too, Harry. A couple years ago, and I never knew him either."

"Really?" He seemed to take comfort from that. "The only other person I ever considered my family was my headmaster…"

"Dumbledore."

"Yeah, but I didn't know how much until after he died. He was like my grandfather. My whole life, he watched out for me. Now he's gone, too. I have—" It hit Harry hard. "—no one now."

"You have good friends in Ron and Hermione. And the Weasleys obviously adore you."

He shook his head, willing the tears not to fall.

"And Remus Lupin."

"You know me too well, Jordan. It's eerie."

She stood again, her body becoming stiff with the lack of movement. "Well, Harry, I daresay, after all of this, you have me."

Harry smiled. He liked the sound of that. "I do?"

"Yes, you do. And Harry…if we survive this—if both of us live—I am going to take you with me to America, at least for a little while. I want you to meet my family. I have nieces and nephews your age; they would love you!"

"That sounds great!" Harry remembered once his joy at the possibility of living with Sirius. How he looked forward all year long to the chance of having someone to spend time with. It was going to be just the two of them. But it never happened. Would the same be the case with Jordan--that she would end up dead?

Jordan noticed his smile fade. "Harry?"

"I'm alright."

"If things, well, if I--Harry, do you want me to adopt you?" She didn't know what possessed her to say it. She wasn't old enough to be his mother and she really didn't feel motherly toward him, but she had money and a home. She could take care of him.

"No!" He said it so quickly, her feelings were hurt.

"O-okay. Alright."

"No, Jordan, you don't understand."

She moved toward the chairs by the empty, ash-covered fireplace. "It's okay, really."

He stood in front of her and blocked her path. "Jordan…I can't wait to go to America with you, hang out with your family. But Malfoy's right about something. And that something's the reason why I could never live with you as your son…"

Jordan didn't want to hear it, tried to turn away, but he caught her face in his hands. "I love you, Jordan. I'm sorry. I know you don't want me to, but I do."

"I want you to love me, Harry…but just not the way you—just not like that."

He shrugged, "Sorry."

Jordan laughed, "Oh, Harry…what are we going to do?"

"Finish this, that's what…Ssssaliah Saalethh…"

"What?" She asked. "What are you doing?"

"I'm calling Nagini."

She fought the urge to jump onto the chair. "No, Harry…not here. Don't bring her here!"

"Ssssaliah Saalethh…"

A great rumbling was heard and as if echoed off cavernous walls, a hissing noise swept through the room. Both Harry and Jordan looked around frantically to see where Nagini would arrive.

"She's nearby," he whispered.

"I gathered that."

The window from which Jordan had been looking earlier splintered and a large python snake with a diamond-shaped head slid into the room. Jordan screamed and backed away. Harry stood in front of her, "Selisssaeh Shassirah."

Nagini hissed back and stood straight in the air, its head coming close to Harry's, staring into the young man's eyes.

"What—what did you tell her?"

Harry could feel Jordan trembling, "I told her she looked beautiful."

"Should I be jealous?"

"Don't make me laugh or I swear I'll love you more."

Nagini didn't like Harry's distraction and lunged over his shoulder at Jordan. She screamed again and jumped back. Harry spoke to her his voice low and melodic and walked away. The snake followed like he was the Pied Piper from fairy tales of old.

The snake's body knocked small objects over as she wove her way around the room, lighting at last by the door.

"Harry," Jordan whispered, "what are you doing?"

"I've asked her if she's a horcrux. She said she'd rather show me than tell me."

"It's a trap."

"It just might be, but that's what most of the horcruxes are."

"Harry…"

"I have to try, don't you understand that yet?"

Jordan was silent. The door to the Gryffindor common room swung open, Nagini slid out, yellow eyes blazing, and Harry stepped through to follow. He turned to look at Jordan, saw the fear in her face, her hands trembling. "Stay here."

"Harry…"

"Just do it. I'll be back and maybe you'll be free."

As she watched him go and the door shut once again, Jordan shakily sat down. It bothered her that he had said "you'll" instead of "we'll." The snake could kill him in a split second; non-magical snakes could do that.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack. Jordan was on her feet, ready to fight Snape again if she had to. But standing in the room were Ron and Hermione.

"Where's Harry?" Ron asked.

"He went with Nagini."

"What?"

"Harry thinks she's a horcrux. They left here together."

Hermione shot Jordan a disappointed look, "And you let him go?"

"How was I supposed to stop that snake?"

"You weren't," Ron said. "That was the idea, I reckon."

"Can you go after him?" Jordan looked at Harry's best friends, pleaded with them. "Just be there if he needs help."

"What about you?"

"Just go after him."

Ron and Hermione nodded at each other and followed the path that Harry had taken only moments before.


	3. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Nagini and the Revelation

Harry was soon out of breath. Nagini traveled fast and was able to take corners without slowing down. He skidded and slid around the damp corridors as they made their way past the dungeon and down to the bowels of the school. His heart jumped as he soon realized exactly where they were headed: to the room of snakes where he fought the basilisk his second year.

Of course, this made sense. Nagini probably lived there while at Hogwarts. The room was a shrine to the creatures: a long stone corridor was lined by snake heads, all culminating in a large face of Salazar Slytherin, sculpted like it was on Mount Rushmore in the Muggle world.

"Hesshaaah Seliahhh….?" Harry asked, hoping she would tell him they were truly going to the right place.

"Siahhsheh."

Harry skidded to a halt when the snake did and then jumped when Nagini doubled back at him. She wove up and down and side to side as if to introduce him to all corners of the room.

"I know. I've been here before." He said in Parseltongue.

Turning in a circle, he wondered to what she could possibly be gesturing. The torches on the walls made the stone look silver and it seemed as if the snakes along the walls were blinking at him. He shivered.

Nagini turned frontward again and slowly slithered through the tunnel just to the right of Slytherin. Before long,Harry was in an open room. A circle of black-hooded figures stood in the center. Death Eaters, he thought…

"Shallaahhiethhh, ssalensaaa." Nagini motioned to the center of the circle.

"Is this where the horcrux is? I thought it was you."

The snake sounded as though she were laughing. Two of the figures moved aside to let Harry in. Slowly, he walked, trying to see under the hoods, to see who these particular Death Eaters were.

"Harry…" Came a raspy voice.

"Are you going to show yourself or fight through these cowards, _Lord_ Voldemort!"

One Death Eater took a menacing step toward Harry and instinctively, Harry stepped back. He knew it was the wrong thing to do,knew he hadshown a sign of weakness, when he heard the Dark Lord laugh, "Did you think I would give you Nagini, Potter?"

So Dumbledore was right, Harry thought. But of course, it would be another dead end."I killed one of your snakes before, Riddle."

"Don't call me that! Remember, I know where your _girlfriend_ is."

"She isn't my girlfriend. And yes, I'm sure you do."

One of the hooded beings stepped forward, so surely, so suddenly, Harry jumped. The rest completed the circle again and it was just Harry and the Death Eater inside. Was it Voldemort, Harry wondered?

Slowly, the hood was removed and Harry stared into the sunken eyes of Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father. His face was pale, gaunt, his skin pallid, nothing like when he was rich and powerful; nothing like before his time in Azkaban.

"I thought you were in prison!" Harry hissed.

The older Malfoy sneered, and it was obvious where his son had learned the facial gesture. "Did you truly think that I wouldn't escape? You foolish boy, I only stayed in that place as long as I did to give everyone a sense of false security."

Harry patted his pocket to be sure his wand was there, "Do you really believe that anyone was worried about your getting out? No one cared!"

"I have longed for the day that you and I would meet like this, Potter! My son was right: you are a meddlesome, arrogant, ridiculous boy. From the day you took Dobby from me, shamed me in the halls of Hogwarts, I swore that I would have my day."

"And so with all of these people here as back up in case you lose, you are going to try and fight me?" Harry didn't know where this hatred was coming from. In his heart, he wasn't frightened. He longed for the chance to kill these people.

Malfoy didn't answer, but instead pointed his wand at Harry with lightning speed. His reflexes certainly hadn't suffered in Azkaban. Harry felt a searing pain in the middle of his chest and looked down, gasping. A scorch mark appeared there, going through his shirt and burning his skin.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted and Malfoy's wand went flying into the air.

Malfoy moved stealthily around the circle and Harry followed, trying to keep alert, trying to ignore the pain. He couldn't let himself become distracted again.

The Death Eater summoned his wand back into his hand and smiled. "You disappoint me! I thought you were a powerful wizard!"

Still moving around the circle, Harry found he had nothing to say to that, except, "Stup-!"

"Protego!" Malfoy yelled, then countered, "Stupefy!"

Harry sailed through the air as he was stunned by the light from the Death Eater's wand. He lay there for a moment, trying to catch his breath. He heard the hooded figures murmuring and pushed himself to his feet.

"Oh, that's enough Lucius! Let the rest of us have a turn!"

Harry knew the high pitched, raving voice anywhere. He turned to see the ravishing face of Bellatrix Black Lestrange, his godfather's cousin and killer. As most purebloods were, she was also related to the Malfoys by marriage. A long time ago, she was one of the most beautiful witches alive, but time and madness had diluted her looks. Still,her long hair and perfectly sculptured face were distinctive.

Harry raised his wand to her, "How dare you show yourself to me!"

She cackled a maniacal laugh. "Me? I have more of a right to be here than you, Potter. By all rights, you should be dead, but Snape can't seem to do that job!"

"Silence!" came the voice of another Death Eater, but Harry knew the Potions Master was in the room.

"I will finish you! Here! Now!" She yelled.

"Bellatrix, you will do as I command!" said Voldemort, slowly and carefully.

"Yes, Master, but I must be allowed a chance, just as Malfoy here did." She held up her wand and with a swish, sent Harry flying again. He hit the wall hard, heard a crack and felt the bone in his wand arm break. The pain was excruciating and hefell tothe ground, motionless.

------------

They had been running forever, it seemed. They could hear Harry talking to Nagini every once in awhile and would adjust their route accordingly. Both Ron and Hermione were out of breath, but feared breathing in case they lost their best friend's tracks.

Hermione was worried. Why would Harry be so eager to go without back-up? Why did he seem to want to get away from them? In her heart, she knew that Harry was growing up radically different from them. Ron and Hermione were as normal as they could be for people their age, only they could cast spells and ride brooms (well, Ron rode a broom anyway). But Harry was moving in circles to which they would never belong: being courted by the Ministry of Magic, being offered a spot in the Order of the Phoenix, being photographed and written about everywhere he went. It had to have been difficult to separate himself from the notoriety.

Another part of her believed Jordan had a lot to do with it. Hermione still believed Jordan had something to do with the Dark Lord. Maybe she wasn't working for him, but they were connected somehow. It was just too coincidental that she appeared in England when she did. A piece of the puzzle was still missing and no matter how hard she thought about it, Hermione couldn't figure out what it was. Something about Jordan seemed familiar, yet dangerous.

Ron and Hermione heard the laughter of Bellatrix Lestrange and hurried their already fast pace.

"We're getting closer. Down this way!" Ron yelled, able to finally see the shadows of the group around a corner.

"Do you think we're too late?" Hermione took his arm as they stopped quickly before turning the bend.

"I don't think so. It sounds like they're playing with him. Before the…before the…" he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Before the kill, as they say." Hermione whispered, fearfully.

Just as they both took the first step into the tunnel, they were halted by a maze of green light. Hermione yelped and Ron covered their heads. Lines criss-crossed around them and as the green brilliantly reflected off the water, the pair were momentarily blinded. Both were forced to close their eyes tightly. Finally, when it was through, the design had made a neatly squared cage and both were caught inside.

"What the bloody hell…?" Ron said, angrily.

"He knows we're here."

"Great! This is just great! How are we going to get out?" He grabbed the bars and pulled back as the lights burned into his palms. Ron cried out in agony.

Hermione pulled him back. His fists were curled and sweat beaded on his face. "Open your hands, Ron."

"I—can't." He said through gritted teeth. "I can't look. This is gonna be bad."

"I can fix it."

She gently pried them open. His palms had two black lines and smelled like scorched flesh. She swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat and gently touched her wand to him. "Obliterate!"

The marks disappeared and Ron flexed his hands. "Thank you."

She kissed him, "You're welcome. Just don't touch anything."

"Well, I know that _now_. So what are we going to do?"

Hermione sat cross-legged on the ground. "Nothing. Voldemort created this. I don't know the first thing about undoing his spells."

"We can't just let Harry die."

"He isn't going to kill Harry. He _wants_ him to get the horcrux, remember? We'll be allowed to go in again, at the right moment. Hopefully, we'll be quick enough to help."

Ron couldn't argue with her logic, so he also sat down, being very careful to avoid touching any part of the cage. He looked at her and smiled. Even with her face smudged with dirt and her hair frizzier than normal because of the moisture in the tunnel, she was pretty. It amazed him that he hadn't seen it years earlier.

"What?" She asked, looking down with embarrassment at the way he was staring at her.

"Nothing, just looking."

Hermione decided to change the subject. "I'm worried about Harry."

"He's got to fight on his own sometime. He hates being babied."

"No, it's not that. About what he said, remember, back at your house?"

"No, what?"

"About feeling dark things, and taking Jordan. That makes me nervous."

Ron laughed, a little too confidently. "Oh, that's nothing. He's just frustrated. You know how he hates living with his aunt and uncle. He's getting over Dumbledore dying, too. I expect he'd be a little angry."

"But I'm afraid…he used his wand on us, Ron. When I looked at his face, I didn't even recognize him."

Ron didn't respond. He couldn't. The truth was Harry's behavior had made him nervous too. Each summer seemed to take his friend a little farther away from him. The few times Ron was able to reach Harry during holiday, he seemed distant, above them all somehow. The only time Harryacted like his old self was when Jordan came into the picture.

Hermione continued, "He has so much power, power he doesn't even know he has. Think of all the things he did during the Tri-Wizard Tournament and all the spells he taught us when the D.A. was in session. If Voldemort got hold of him, and trained him right, he could be…"

"Don't say it." Ron whispered, sternly. "Just don't say it!"

"I'm sorry."

"Are you losing faith in him? He the best friend we have. He's saved our lives I don't know how many…"

"I know, Ron. I won't say anymore. I just can't help what I feel."

"Look, he's just growing up, too. We have each other, let him have Jordan—or Ginny—or whoever."

"Don't get me started on Jordan." Hermione said, ruefully.

He turned away from her. It was just too disturbing to think about. What would Ron do if he lost Harry to the Dark Side? What would the wizarding world do? He could see the _Daily Prophet_ headline now: Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort—Together at Last!

------------

Jordan had decided to occupy her time by really looking through the books on the Gryffindor common room shelves. If anything, maybe she could take away some spells. She didn't want to let herself think about what was happening to Harry—or Ron and Hermione for that matter—especially since she had sent them after him.

Something drew her to the _Magic Moste Evile_ book Harry had looked at their last trip to Hogwarts. She flipped to the index and looked up Voldemort. Who exactly was this monster that haunted Harry and had made her life miserable?

When her finger touched the word "Voldemort," the book took on a life of its own. Pages flipped with a frenzy to the right, bringing her to a page with the heading "Tom Riddle, AKA Lord Voldemort."

Wondering if the book was enchanted or if she had done that, Jordan began to read:

"_Riddle's mother was a witch, but his father was Muggle-born. When Tom Riddle, Sr. found out that his wife was a witch, he abandoned both of them. Riddle was born in 1927. Albus Dumbledore brought him to Hogwarts in 1938. _

"_During his rise to fame as the brightest wizard of his day at Hogwarts, he won a Service to the School award. Tom Riddle was also recognized as the heir of Salazar Slytherin, one of the founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

"_It was learned that while in his 5th year at the school, he had opened the Chamber of Secrets in an effort to kill all Muggle-borns. Riddle believed it was his destiny to complete the wishes of Slytherin, and make Hogwarts a pure-blood school. Riddle denied his own parentage, abandoning his father almost at the same time his father abandoned him."_

Jordan became impatient. _What about Voldemort?_ Again, pages began turning on their own, stopping on page 538. She scanned the paragraphs and continued to read.

"_During the summer of 1944, Tom Riddle left Hogwarts, returned to his father's home in Little Hangleton and murdered his father and paternal grandparents. With each murder, Riddle became darker and more powerful. He rearranged his given name—Tom Marvolo Riddle—into I am Lord Voldemort and has since gone by the name, feared by many even to be spoken._

_"Voldemort's following increased and the number and types of murders he committed were legendary. Those who spoke out about him or tried to fight him were killed. The only wizard Voldemort feared was Hogwarts headmaster Albus Dumbledore, the teacher who first brought him to Hogwarts."_

She gasped. Now it was getting interesting. No wonder Harry thought the school was safe.

"_A prophecy was declared that said a child born in July would threaten his power. Voldemort began a quest to rid himself of the child and his family. Somehow, the Dark Lord connected James and Lily Potter, known enemies of his, as the parents of this child, Harry, born July 31. Lily and James went into hiding, but when Harry was a little over a year old, Voldemort found them, killed both Lily and James.When he went to kill Harry,the curse was reversed, nearly destroying the evil wizard."_

Jordan shut the book and stood, panic gripping her. Harry had spent his whole life escaping the clutches of this maniac and now they were trapped with him! It seemed Jordan had become the bait in this intricate game. How had this young man consistently been able to hold off the most powerful wizard in the world?

She went to the bookcase and took out _Hogwarts: A History_. Sheturned to the index and moved her finger until she found information on the school houses. The pages went wild and didn't stop until they reached page 221.

"_Hogwarts: House Histories_

_"Gryffindor House—Founder: Godric Gryffindor. Anyone who is courageous and chivalrous will be sorted into this house. _

_"Hufflepuff House—Founder: Helga Hufflepuff. Anyone who is loyal and true to each other will be sorted into this house._

_"Slytherin House—Founder: Salazar Slytherin. Anyone who is a pureblood witch or wizard and who is clever will be sorted into this house._

_"Ravenclaw House—Founder: Rowena Ravenclaw. Anyone who is wise and loves to learn will be sorted into this house."_

Ravenclaw…that name sounded familiar. Harry had mentioned it once before when he gave her the tour of Hogwarts and explained the Sorting Hat, but there was something else. She went to the index and looked up Rowena Ravenclaw.

"_Rowena Ravenclaw was from the glen and hand-picked all of her students over a thousand years ago, when Hogwarts was founded. She has been credited with designing the school's intricate floorplan. Helga Hufflepuff and she were very close friends. In time, the Ravenclaw ancestors went over to America, beginning another line of witches there. The first Ravenclaw sighting in the U.S. was in 1820 with Galadriel in New England. The Ministry of Magic Hall of Records has the complete line ofRavenclaw witches and wizards through to the present age. Legend has it that the Dark Lord---"_

Jordan slammed the book shut so hard, dust rose from the large table. "No!"

Blindly, she found her way out of the room and ran down the stairs, not stopping until the reached the bottom. Tears stung at her eyes, as she desperately tried to find the path that would lead to where Harry and then Ron and Hermione had gone. Luckily, all the entrances remained open so Jordan just followed them all until she heard voices.

Ron and Hermione stood when they saw Jordan, out of breath and tears in her eyes, panting before them.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

Silently, Jordan looked at the cage, then held out her hand and said, "Finite."

It vanished and Hermione moved to Jordan quickly. She was crying harder now, almost ashamed she had been able to do it.

"But, I thought…" Ron was stunned. "That was one of Vold—…"

"It's you, isn't it?" Hermione said, her voice in awed respect.

Jordan nodded.

"I-I don't understand…" Ron was still looking around at the shadows of the electric cage that held them prisoner only moments ago.

Hermione had one arm around Jordan and was rubbing her back, "Ron, she's the horcrux."


	4. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

The Decision

Ron stared in disbelief and Hermione sprang into action. "Come on, we have to get in there!"

At the sound of their shoes hitting the water-soaked floor, the Death Eaters in the circle all looked toward them. Many raised their wands in disjointed retaliation. Jordan spotted a stirring Harry on the floor and ran to him, but was caught mid-stride by one of the hooded figures.

"Harry!" she cried, struggling to get out of the Death Eater's grip.

"I got 'er, Master!" A shorter, heavy-set man yelled, hood falling farther over his eyes.

"Let her go, Goyle. It seems that dawn is rising."

"Huh?" The Death Eater still held the struggling woman.

"You heard the Dark Lord. Just let her go!" rasped Snape.

Jordan ran to Harry, who was being helped up by Hermione and Ron. Ron was happy to note that Harry finally seemed grateful that they were there.

"Are you alright?" Ron asked.

"My-my arm is broken, but other than that, I'm…hang on…" He noticed Jordan's tear-stained face and red eyes. "What about you? What happened to you?"

"Oh, Harry, this has suddenly become so much more difficult."

Holding his arm gingerly, he looked at his friends and then back at Jordan, "I don't understand. What did I miss?"

"Clear this room!" Voldemort bellowed.

The three of them turned toward the noise and saw the Death Eaters disapparating under protest one by one on the order of their master. The only one left in the room was Snape, standing with arms crossed over his chest.

"Jordan, come here." He said, slowly.

Harry tried to hold her back, but couldn't get to her in time.Her path was blocked when another figure appeared in front of Snape. Harry tried to take another step toward her.

"Harry, don't!" Hermione said and she motioned to Ron to help stop him.

"What is going on?" Harry demanded.

"Have you solved the riddle, Jordan?" said the tall man, removing his hood and cloak in one flourish. His skin was transparent and covered his face so tightly that his cheek bones and eye sockets were visible. Jordan shivered, but couldn't look away. He had no hair on his head, and his eyes were yellow, like Nagini's. His bony fingers where laced in front of him.

"Yes…"

"Leave her alone, Voldemort!" Harry yelled again, as Ron and Hermione loosened their grasp, struck paralyzed by the idea that the Dark Lord was truly in front of them.

"Ah, but Potter, you too need to hear this, as you are nearing the end of your journey!"

Snape waved his wand from behind Voldemort and Harry tripped, sliding forward roughly on the floor, stopping only when he was next to Jordan. His face twisted in pain as his broken arm hit the stone again and again.

Unsteady, he got to his feet and cradled the broken arm with the whole one. "It's about time you showed yourself." Harry's voice cracked under the strain.

Instead of showing anger, the Dark Lord simply laughed. "Even now, you are stupid! Nothing changes. You truly belonged in Slytherin."

"Never!" Harry's voice was stronger, "Never!"

Snape moved out from the shadows of the Dark Lord and stood behind Harry. Ron and Hermione tensed, wondering if their best friend knew Snape was there.

"Tsk, tsk, your wand arm is no good, is it?" The Potions teacher smirked. "We certainly can't have that. But you know how to fix it, don't you?"

Jordan realized he was talking to her and she shook her head. Fix Harry's broken arm? What was he talking about?

"You do, girl! Think!"

The words formed themselves in her mind. She didn't know where or how they came about, but she said them, "Bracchium Ermendo."

"What?" Snape asked, loudly.

"Bracchium Ermendo!"

Harry shuddered at first, reminded of the backward attempt of former Defense Against the Dark Arts fraud, or Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, who cast that spell on Harry once before. All that had happened were the bones in Harry's broken arm had disappeared and he spent the night in the hospital wing; taking something disgusting that Madame Pomfrey said would re-grow them. Now, he took a deep breath as the pain went away. He shook his wand arm out and smiled. Good, he thought, now he'd have a fighting chance again.

"And how did you know that?" The Potions Master began to circle Harry and Jordan.

"I—I don't know."

"Yes, you do. Tell us!"

"I said—I don't know."

He stopped behind her, put his arm around her shoulders and pointed his wand at her throat. "Yes—you—do."

"Stop!" Harry had his wand out, had taken a step forward, "Leave her alone, Snape!"

Jordan closed her eyes. It had to come out sometime. It had to be revealed that she was to be Harry Potter's downfall, his possible death. "Because I—I'm the horcrux!"

Harry nearly dropped his wand. He felt his knees giving way, felt himself sink to the ground. Jordan watched him fall and couldn't begin to think what was going through his head.

Snape snickered and released her.

"Potter, unless you want to hand her over to me now," Voldemort's voice broke through the stillness of the chamber, "you have three days left."

Harry had almost forgotten he was there. He said nothing, didn't have anything to say. Why had she betrayed him? How had he let himself fall for her?

Jordan looked from Harry to the Dark Lord and wondered exactly what would happen if she remained with Voldemort. How painful was the process of removing the piece of his soul that was within her? Would she die during it? Would she want to?

"Three days…" Harry said, slowly.

In a moment, there was a loud crack. Snape and Voldemort had disapparated and by the eerie silence in the room, all knew that for the moment,they were safe.

"We should get out of here." Ron finally spoke, his voice dry. He was still confused by what had just happened.

"Yes, you're right." Hermione agreed, taking the hand he offered her.

Harry got shakily to his feet, still silent, as though he were in shock. Jordan said nothing as well, unable to believe the enormous difference in what her life had been just weeks ago and what it was now. She turned and followed Ron and Hermione out of the Chamber and back into the corridor.

"WAIT!" Harry yelled, his voice echoing off the slippery stone.

All three turned back, startled.

"What Harry?" Hermione asked, in as patient a voice as she could muster.

"Jordan and I need to talk—now."

"Harry, not here, can't we go to Gryffindor Tower?"

He shot Hermione a look that shut her up immediately, as he tried desperately to hang on to his emotions. The two friends knew better than to argue and left.Harry stood still until he no longer heard their footsteps. As soon as it was silent, he turned to Jordan. "How long have you known?"

"Harry…"

"HOW LONG DID YOU THINK YOU WOULD GO ON MAKING A FOOL OF ME?"

She jumped at his outburst, and backed away. "Harry, please…"

His face wassteel; his eyes were no longer bright but a dark, menacing color, boring into the very soul that might not even be her own. He had reached the end—his final straw—he could not take being betrayed once more. "I should kill you right now." He spoke slowly, as if she were a child. "You have been working with them all along. Hermione was right! I should just kill you!"

Jordan watched him, as though she were above the scene, looking down on people she didn't know. His wand was at the ready, pointed toward her chest, just waiting for an excuse. Deep down, she knew he couldn't. Not yet.

"You don't want to kill me, Harry. But you will have to—in the end."

"NO!" He yelled, defeated.

"I'm sorry, Harry." Jordan walked out of the room. She knew he wouldn't be far behind. She made her way to the stairs and walked up flight after flight, not even feeling winded. In truth, she didn't feel much at all.

At the Fat Lady, she said, "Galleon!" and with a "hmphh!" she was let in the common room. Ron and Hermione stood quickly at her arrival.

"Where's Harry?" Ron asked, urgently.

"He's coming, I expect."

"Is he—alright?"

"I don't know. He will be, I'm sure. He's been through so much."

Ron sat heavily in one of the chairs by the fireplace. "I know I'm a bit thick-headed, but I don't understand. How did you suddenly become a horcrux?"

"It wasn't suddenly." Hermione offered.

Jordan shook her head. She leaned against the windowsill, staring outside, seeing nothing but blackness, and preferring it that way. "First off, I had no idea."

Harry entered quietly, and stopped when he heard her talking. "It's not fair." he said.

Jordan turned. "When you mentioned Ravenclaw the first time we were here, the name sounded familiar to me, like something distant in my past. While the three of you were gone, I started reading your textbooks. I read a lot about you Harry…and then…"

Hermione picked up _Hogwarts: A History_. "Of course! That's where I had heard about you. It says in here under Rowena Ravenclaw that there was a legend about Voldemort…"

Ron shuddered at the name.

"…that Voldemort allegedly put his soul into something belonging to Rowena Ravenclaw—one of her American descendents."

Ron looked over Hermione's shoulder. "They actually mention your name in here."

"I know that now."

"You had no idea you had magic ancestry?" Harry asked.

"Did you?"

Harry shook his head. She had a point.

"It was so long ago, Harry. No one ever said anything. No stories were passed down—nothing. I just knew the name Ravenclaw because it's my great, great-aunt's maiden name."

"Why you?" Ron asked.

"To destroy me."

"Harry…" Hermione looked at him. "Voldemort's soul could have been put into Jordan before you were born."

"It doesn't matter. You were right—in a way. That's why I met Jordan."

Well, you have three days. Maybe you can find another horcrux to replace her."

Harry snorted, "It took me three weeks to find _this_ one. Some Chosen One I am."

Hermione had an idea. She smiled and went to Jordan. "Maybe you have more than 3 days."

"What do you mean?"

"The Time Turner."

Harry stood straight, feeling lighter than he had all night. "Yes! It's in McGonagall's office, isn't it?"

"What is a Time Turner?"

Hermione explained to Jordan how a Time Turner worked and told about how she had doubled up on classes during her third year thanks to it. "You won't get too much more time out of it, though."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Voldemort will be able to see right through it, I imagine. He's very powerful."

"We could buy some time." Jordan smiled. "Enough time for me to go home."

"Home?" Ron asked. "Are you mental?"

"Home…to America. To see my family one last time."

"You can't be serious?" Harry couldn't believe after everything, she was going to leave him.

"Yes, I am."

Hermione and Ron looked at each other then at the shocked face of their best friend.

"Do you really think that's wise?" Hermione asked.

"Why?"

"Well, won't Voldemort think you're trying to escape?"

"Would you really---?" Harry started.

"Who cares?" Jordan interrupted. "Really! Voldemort knows we know who I am. That was his game. He is sufficiently punishing Harry by making him kill me or surrender me. He's given us three days. We'll never find another horcrux. I have the right to see my family!"

Ron held Hermione's hand to keep her from answering. "You should go home," he said. "And you, mate…" He looked at Harry, "should let her go."

Hermione silently gave Jordan a hug and then backed away. "We're only a call away.We'll be here when you get back."

Ron nodded and reached a hand out to her. She pulled him into a hug and he could feel his face redden. She whispered in his ear, "He _will_ need you both now."

Ron and Hermione left the room to Jordan and Harry. She took a deep breath and stared at him. His face was a mixture of disbelief and fear.

"Harry, I _am_ sorry."

He nodded, "It's better that you go. I can think of a way—to—get round this."

She sat, feeling the weight of the night intruding on her, "Harry, I would rather die than live with his soul inside of me."

He knew how violated he had felt just being privy to the Dark Lord's dreams and emotions. "I don't blame you. I just wish—I wish…"

"What?"

"I wish we'd had more time."

"Me, too."

"I'll miss you."

"Bye, Harry." She turned to leave.

"Wait! The Time Turner."

"Forget it. It's too late. I just need you to get me to the airport."

Reluctantly, he led her down the stairs and away from the castle—possibly away from him forever.


	5. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Voldemort's Ultimatum

For a long time, Harry stared out the window in Ron's room at the Burrow. Life suddenly seemed very quiet with Jordan gone. Ron and Hermione tried to cheer him up but it did no good. He was only able to get as far as the airport's security checkpoint with Jordan. She had seemed relieved to be going home, as if the distance from Hogwarts to her home in America was enough of a distance to erase all of the painful events of the past weeks. He understood entirely why she would feel that way. He would too, if the positions were reversed. Unfortunately, Harry had no one with whom to change places, no one to get away from.

He had stood outside the airport and watched a large jet take off. He hadn't known if it was hers, but pretended it was. Harry imagined himself on his Firebolt, the fastest broom ever made, flying side by side with the plane, looking at her in her seat. Was she thinking about him? How could she not be after all he had put her through?

"Mum's made dinner, Harry. I know it's late, but…"

"No thanks. I'm not hungry."

"She's not going to take no for an answer, mate. Come on, you need to eat."

Harry got up and followed his best friend downstairs. The table was full of food: sausages and potatoes, green beans with butter, treacle tarts--even though six Weasleys weren't even home. Bill was with his new wife, Fleur Delacour, Triwizard contestant and Beauxbatons School of Witchcraft and Wizardry graduate, in their home in France. Harry's pride still stung to know that his former girlfriend and Ron's younger sister, Ginny, was with them. Twins, Fred and George, owners of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, a successful joke shop in Hogsmeade, were too busy to come home much. So it was just Ron, Hermione, Harry and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Harry tried to smile when he came downstairs. Truth be told, he was tired of feeling so stressed and unhappy. No one spoke of anything having to do with Jordan, Voldemort, Snape, the Ministry of Magic or even Hogwarts during dinner. Instead, Mr. Weasley kept quizzing Harry about appliances found in Muggle homes. Harry found himself droning on about the many uses for a microwave oven.

"How can I take care of this?" Harry asked after dinner, as both boys sat outside on the steps. The sky was lightening as dawn approached, but no one felt like sleeping. Too much was at stake.

"I don't know. The only thing to do is to find another horcrux."

"Maybe I should…"

"What?"

Nevermind."

"Tell me."

"Maybe I should just join him like he wants."

"That's stupid! I can't believe you just said that!"

"I told you to nevermind!"

Ron stood and walked a little ways up the path. "What good do you think that will do anyone?"

"It'll save Jordan for one thing. And I'll be out of the spotlight for awhile, since I won't be in every wizard newspaper for fighting Voldemort or some Death Eater or something."

"Every paper will run that story—you and Voldemort on the same side."

"Yeah, but it will go away. Voldemort will get what he wants—"

"He will kill you Harry."

"So?"

Ron stopped walking, his back toward his best friend. For some reason, tears were stinging his eyes. Harry had given up. Someday it was bound to happen, Ron knew. He and Hermione had talked about it. But the fight had to be almost over. Soon, Voldemort would really die and Harry would be able to live a normal life—he was only 17—still plenty of time for fun and normality.

"Don't you think it will ever be over?"

"Ron, it will never be over until I kill him or he kills me. It doesn't look like I'll ever be able to kill him. Don't you see? I needed Dumbledore to help me find the other horcruxes. I don't know enough yet."

"Harry…"

"Ron, I've only known who I really am for six years. You've heard of Voldemort for almost your whole life! I'm still catching myself up on everything--and the people who could have done the most good for me are all dead!

"The only way I can really save Jordan—do something, anything useful—is to give myself up to the Dark Side. I'll just let Voldemort slap a Dark Mark on my arm and get it over with."

"That's almost treason, Harry." Hermione said from the doorway.

"Don't be so righteous, Hermione. Sometimes we have to be realistic."

"You are the Chosen One. You have a destiny."

"I'm tired of this damn destiny! I want to be a regular kid—I want to take Jordan to the movies—or Ginny—or whoever. I'm tired of having to remember what spells to use to stay alive! I want to play video games and go to University, study to become…I don't know, something. How would you both like to think you alone could save the lives of thousands of people?"

Hermione shook her head, "I don't know, Harry. I don't know if I could do it, but you have. You have been saving us all since you were a baby. No matter what the press says about you, no matter how some of the students at Hogwarts have treated you, everyone admires and respects you. And Voldemort won't admit it, but he's frightened of you. He thinks he has you this time. He doesn't."

"What do you mean?"

"I think you should give the Time Turner to Jordan." She had it in her hand, the long gold chain sparkling in the light the sun cast as it rose. "And then I think we should find another horcrux. Together."

Harry looked at her warily, "How can we do that?"

"By using Snape."

"Hermione!" Ron yelled, indignantly. "Are you completely mental this time? He wants to kill Harry, always has! He killed Professor Dumbledore!"

"I think Voldemort's using him. He wants Snape for one reason—to get to Harry. But Draco said Snape's been working both sides. I think if we convince Snape that Voldemort's using him, he will help us."

"You _are_ mental." Ron muttered.

"Wait…" Harry stood also. "You might be on to something. I've seen Snape waver. He's still treats me badly, but sometimes, like at the Quidditch match my first year, when Quirrell put that spell on my broom…"

"And when he gave Umbridge the fake Veritaserum."

"That was only because he didn't want Harry to rat him out." Ron still wasn't sure that involving Snape in any way was good.

"But he did it. We all hated Umbridge and Snape helped Harry get the better of her."

Harry smiled at Hermione, "Do you really think we can do this?"

"I know we can. As long as we stick together. Where do you think, deep down, the other horcrux is?"

"The home of Godric Gryffindor."

"Good! Me, too. Ron?"

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I guess so. Tom Riddle's diary was destroyed, someone with the initials R.A.B. destroyed the necklace, Voldemort won't let you near Nagini now, Jordan is in America and she's the Ravenclaw link. So yeah, Gryffindor would certainly be next. Where did Godric Gryffindor live?"

Harry's eyes grew wide. "No! Not where he lived, Ron, a town that's named for him—Godric's Hollow! In my old house!"

-------

Jordan sat in the backyard with most of her family. It was a beautiful summer Sunday. The Taylor's yellow house was buzzing with people running from her sister Becky's part of the house upstairs to her mother's apartment downstairs. Her two nephews, Tyler and Chris, both in their teens, were moving back and forth with dishes Becky had been simmering in crockpots: baked beans, kielbasa, ziti, beer-marinated meatballs. Jordan's niece Madison, who had just turned twelve, was helping make a big salad and had just put it on the picnic table set up outside. Tom, Becky's husband of nearly twenty years, flipped burgers, chicken and ribs on the grill--his specialty. Tom loved the summer and fall. He cooked everything he could on his gas grill.

"Do you want some lemonade?" Jordan's mother, Carol, asked. She walked a little more hunched over now, her back bothering her more as she got older, but her stride was still strong.

"That's okay, Mom. I'll get it."

"No, no, sit down. I'll get you some. That's why I asked."

Carol Taylor had been very surprised to get a call that her youngest daughter needed a ride home from the airport. Jordan hadn't let anyone know she was coming home so soon, and it took them a little while to round up a ride. Finally, the second Taylor daughter, Marie, who worked close to the airport, left her office to come get her.

It was a pleasant surprise, none the less. Jordan was so grateful to be back in her New England hometown that she could almost forget the price on her head. No one need know what had happened. For now, she would be content to say she would soon have to go back. Part of her even wanted to test the three day theory—stay a little longer--but she was too scared to bring Voldemort's wrath down on her innocent family.

Marie couldn't make it to the picnic, but Jordan and she promised to go shopping at the local mall later in the day. Meanwhile, the rest of the Taylors all helped themselves to a feast.

As the evening wore on, the food was cleaned up and some wine and beer was brought out. Chris had set up his boom box in the summer house and he, Tyler and Madison played a game of badminton with an old set of rackets that had once belonged to Jordan's sisters.

"How's the lecturing going?" Tom asked, finally settling in a folding chair after meticulously cleaning his grill.

"Fine," Jordan lied, easily. "I have more set up for next week, but since I had some time off, I decided to come home."

"Well, that's good."

"Where do you live when you're there, in a hotel?" Madison sat on the ground, giving up the game to her brothers.

"In a rented house in a town outside London."

"Wow! You get a house?"

"Yep."

A sudden CRACK made everyone turn their heads toward the front yard. Attributing it to a branch falling from a tree or perhaps a car backfiring, the rest of the family returned to their conversation. Jordan knew better and her heart sped up.

"Is that how it works, Jordan?" Becky was asking.

"Um, what?"

"Your royalties? Don't they give you 10?"

"Actually, it's 15 now. Pretty good. I have a really good deal with the publisher. Did anyone else hear that?"

"Want me to see what it was?" Tyler started to get up.

"No! I mean—I'll go. You guys keep talking. I'll be right back."

Jordan hurried around the side of the house, past the large White Oak that dominated the landscape. Family stories said that the tree came from the Ravenclaw clan in Europe and now Jordan wondered if it was enchanted.

As she closed the fence gate behind her, she slowly walked toward the front yard. She recited spells she might need over in her mind, to be prepared if Snape or Malfoy stood there. However, she found she was not entirely surprised to see Harry preparing to knock on the door. He wore jeans and a gray sweatshirt and carried a dufflebag of his own.

"_What are you doing here?"_ Jordan hissed.

"I brought the Time Turner. We have to talk."

"I don't want to do anything that might make Voldemort angry. You shouldn't be here. Wait—how were you able to apparate here? You have never been here before. What did you concentrate on?"

He pulled out a photograph of the front of the Taylor house. Jordan remembered she had thrown the photo of her mother and late grandmother sitting on the front stoop in her backpack before Harry had taken her away from Little Whinging.

"You took that?"

"Yes…just in case. When I found out you were leaving. I wasn't sure if I could do it, since I hadn't really ever been here before, but I guess so, cause here I am." He was smiling.

Jordan wasn't amused. "This isn't funny! You have to promise me, Harry, that you won't use magic."

"You mean now that I've finished apparating?" He was almost giddy to be with her again.

She looked pointedly at him, ignoring his sarcasm. "You're just a regular kid, okay?"

"Jordan," Harry became serious. "I'm not a kid. I thought you understood that…"

"You know what I mean."

Harry took her hands, "It will be alright. Come on. I want to meet your family."

"For the sake of propriety, can you at least say you're 21?"

He laughed, "I suppose so."

Harry followed Jordan into the backyard. All talking stopped and Jordan noticed Becky's children had left the yard.

She cleared her throat, "Everyone, this is Harry Potter. I met him in England. Harry, this is my sister Becky, her husband Tom and my mom, Carol."

He bowed slightly to Becky and Tom but since Jordan's mother was so close, he took her hand, "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Taylor."

Carol Taylor smiled. His accent and formality were charming. "I was just going to make coffee, Harry, since it's starting to get dark. Are you hungry? Or could I get you some coffee or tea?"

Harry looked around, feeling a bit uncomfortable in a Muggle home; he half-expected Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia to come around the corner at any moment.

"Um—Tea would be great, thanks."

Carol got up and waved her daughter away when Jordan stood up to help. Harry smiled as Mrs. Taylor went inside the house. He didn't know why he was suddenly partial to older women but if Jordan went on to look like the shapely, but silver-haired Carol, he'd be a very happy man.

"So how did you get here, Harry?"

Tom's question snapped Harry out of his reverie. "Excuse me?"

"How did you get here?"

The meaning of a question to one person and the meaning of a question to another person can always collide like a freight train and Jordan saw it happening in front of her eyes. She could see the wheels turning in Harry's head as he thought, _Floo powder, broom or apparition_.

"Virgin Atlantic," she answered for him.

It was only then Harry realized Tom was talking about planes. He smiled, awkwardly. "Sorry, ears haven't popped yet."

Tom laughed, "And a bit of jet lag too, I'm sure."

Harry nodded although he had no idea what that felt like, having never flown on a jet. He played with Dudley's cast-off toy airplanes a long time ago in his cupboard under the stairs, but that's as close as he had ever been to one.

Jordan's face was pale and Harry watched her concerned, as she put her head back and closed her eyes, "You okay?"

"Yes, just glad to be here." Truth be told, exhaustion sometimes completely overwhelmed her. Her world had been moving so quickly, that now that she was stationary for two days, the energy was rapidly draining from her.

Jordan glanced surreptitiously at her sister and brother-in-law to make sure they weren't watching, "You may be putting my family in danger."

Harry shook his head, "No, you don't…"

"Harry, what if Snape or Malfoy come here since we're here together? Malfoy wouldn't think twice about going after my niece, Madison."

The pretty girl was helping to clean up and Harry wryly remembered that Voldemort, as his younger self, Tom Riddle, had once set his sights on twelve-year-old Ginny Weasley. The Dark Lord had nearly killed the girl in order to strengthen himself.

Jordan went on, "If Malfoy thinks she has the slightest bit of magic in her."

"How do _you_ suddenly know so much about Draco Malfoy?" Harry asked, suddenly angry to learn that maybe she _wasn't_ happy to see him. When she didn't answer, he patted his chest where the Time Turner lay under his t-shirt. "Besides, I told you I came with this. I figured we'd go back three days, head to Hogwarts and start from right before I took you to Heathrow. Hermione has a good idea, something we can use."

She saw the hope in his eyes and it was touching, but Jordan knew in her heart of hearts that Voldemort would not be stopped. Even though she only recently became aware of her background, she knew that he would win. She couldn't quite wrap herself around the idea that Harry—this seventeen year old, mature or not—was the Chosen One, whatever that meant. It was one thing helping him find the horcrux when she thought she would die if they didn't find it, but now it seemed she would die either way.

"What if I decide to stay here?" She closed her eyes again.

His heart began to hammer in his chest. She was giving up. He felt a familiar pang of guilt. It hadn't been that long ago he had almost given up himself.

"If you stay here," Harry chose his words carefully. "You will definitely be inviting danger. Snape and Malfoy would come, if not the other Death Eaters, but Voldemort would come here as well. He wouldn't kill you because his soul's inside you, but he would want to kill someone else."

Harry stopped talking as two tall young men, slightly younger than himself came out of the house. Jordan drew in her breath sharply, tears wanting to spill over her cheeks. Voldemort would certainly kill her family. They had to leave—at first light they'd use the Time Turner and do as Harry said.

"You okay, Aunty Jordan?"

She shook her head, "Fine. Boys, this is a friend of mine," Harry's eyes darkened briefly. "Harry Potter. I met him when I was working in England. Harry, these are my sister's sons, Chris and Tyler."

They all shook hands as Carol returned with the tea. "Hi, boys!"

"Hi, Gram. We saw Jordan had company so we thought we'd say hi."

Tyler, with his dark complexion and dark eyes looked at Harry, "Hey, do you play Xbox?"

"Erm—no, I don't have one." Harry knew all too well what an Xbox was, having watched his cousin Dudley destroy at least five.

"We've got a couple of new games if you're up to playing."

Harry looked at Jordan. He couldn't really take off to go play video games after just revealing to her that Voldemort would probably be coming to kill her family, but she nodded, urging him to go.

"That's fine. I need to talk to Mom anyway."

Harry picked up his tea, gave Jordan a kiss on the forehead and followed her nephews upstairs. Jordan waited for what she knew was coming in the silence that now permeated the backyard.

"Jordan, he's very young…"

"Mom, he's 21…" She winced at the lie. "Look, I need to talk to you. Can we go inside?"

How would she say what she had to say? How could she describe something as fantastical as what had happened to her over the past weeks with any sort of validity?

"Sure."

Once they reached her mother's powder blue living room, Jordan walked to the bay window. She squinted into the blackness and swore she saw two cloaked figures standing on the corner of the street. Quickly yanking the shade down, she turned toward her mother.

"Jordan! My shades!"

"Sorry…"

"What's wrong? Why has seeing this boy shaken you up?"

"He's not a boy." Why she said that, she had no idea.

"Still, it's obvious he likes you…have you two...?"

"Mother! No!" _Why did everyone keep asking that?_ "We met under unusual circumstances."

"Oh?"

"Mom, sit down."

Carol obeyed, her scowl giving way to worry. "Okay…"

"I met him when in a park near my house, that's all. He's very mature for his age. I felt bad. He was being treated horribly at home. We just started hanging out together. We're not dating—and _nothing_ has happened!"

She wanted to laugh when she said it, but was afraid the laugh would border on insanity. Nothing had happened yet so much had happened. Age really seemed meaningless. Part of her wanted to run upstairs and play video games too. But she had more to say.

"Mom, you remember Aunt Rosalina Ravenclaw?"

"Yes…"

By the time Harry came back downstairs, Carol Taylor was speechless. He knew immediately what Jordan had done.

"How was your video game?" Jordan asked, lightly.

"Fine," he answered absent-mindedly as he rounded the corner from the hallway into the living room. "The characters were all wizards. What were you two talking about?"

"Nothing…"

"Jordan!"

"She has a right to know!"

"No, she doesn't." He took out his wand and as Carol's eyes grew wide, he pointed at her. With a swish, she was frozen like a statue on her sofa.

"Harry!" Jordan hissed. "How dare you hex my mother! As a matter of fact, how dare you even come here! Or come into my life!" She longed to throw an Impedimenta spell his way.

Instead, Harry roughly grabbed Jordan by the arm and moved her into the hallway. "Now you've probably _assured_ us a visit from Voldemort!"

"She has the right to know that her daughter may not be—will not be--coming back!"

"Andwhat do you think sheis going to do with that information?"

"I don't know. What do Hermione's parents do? They're Muggles!"

"They aren't faced with this truth. And we need to keep it to ourselves until we can sort it out. A little memory modification should take care of it." He took out his wand again, not exactly sure if this was in his realm of expertise.

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry stamped his foot in frustration as his wand flew out of his hand. "Jordan, we will just modify her memory so she doesn't remember your last conversation. Then we'll go."

"I don't want you to do anything to my mother but unfreeze her, do you understand me?"

Harry looked at her desperate face—those beautiful eyes, the alabaster skin, the long auburn hair—and knew he wouldn't be able to refuse her. Besides, if Hermione's plan didn't work out, and he wasn't entirely sure it would, he would have to kill her. This was the least he could do.

"Alright, alright. _Accio Wand!_" Harry aimed it at Jordan's mother and reversed the spell.

As if nothing had happened, Carol finished letting Jordan's words sink in. "I know I shouldn't believe this, but why would you lie?"

"I'm not lying, Mom. Somewhere deep down you knew about the Ravenclaws, didn't you?" Jordan asked, sitting next to her mother and taking her hands.

She nodded, "Yes, but no one I ever ran into could do—magic. And of course, this thing that man gave you—the hor…"

"Horcrux." Harry finished.

"Of course that would be special—I mean, make you special."

"Unfortunately," Jordan said.

Harry sat across from them. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Taylor."

Jordan shot him a look as if to say _"don't talk about that"_ so he backtracked. "It must be difficult for you to hear this."

"It's certainly not your fault, dear. If you hadn't helped Jordan, she might never have known."

_So she hasn't told her mother I may have to take her life, just that her life might be taken,_ Harry thought. "Mrs. Taylor, Jordan and I have to leave tomorrow. We need to take care of this—and to do that we need to go back to Hog—um, England."

"Leave?" Carol stood. "But won't you be safer here? Away from that terrible man?"

"If we stay, he will come after us here and endanger the rest of your family."

"We can't let that happen, Mom."

"No, no, of course not."

Jordan felt the tears falling—big, silent tears—and she didn't wipe them away. "Once we take care of this, I'll be back. We'll be back. It will be alright." Jordan spoke as if she was outside of herself and she was surprised her mother didn't cry.

Instead, Carol Taylor held her daughter. "I believe in you," was all she said.

The next morning, in the hallway, after goodbyes only Jordan's mother could truly understand, Harry took Jordan in his arms and disapparated. They stood alone in the Gryffindor Common Room—its cozy chars and red and gold decorations forming a familiar home base for them. Harry didn't release Jordan and she didn't try to move away. She way crying again and he knew it. It was his duty to hold her, keep her safe as long as his power would let him.

"Are you sure you're only 17?" she asked, after awhile.

"Well, I heard I'd just reached 21—at least."


	6. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Spinner's End

Godric's Hollow was like most small towns set in the English countryside. The landscape was hilly, the trees were a deep shade of green and the houses were typical, middle class, suburban homes. There was nothing unique about the place at all.

Except in Harry's heart. It was here he was ripped away from the only family he knew—at the tender age of 1. He didn't know what had happened. He didn't he had sent Voldemort into a sort of limbo when the Dark Lord's Unforgivable Curse backfired. He didn't even know how his parents had died trying to save him until 10 years later when Hagrid, Groundskeeper for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry found him and told him so.

Harry Potter had never been back to this spot. He had never visited his parents' graves before. Now, he stood looking down at the two stones that simply said "Lily" and "James." All thought it would be best if "Potter" was kept off. Harry knew it was them.

Jordan stood aside, away from the graveyard where Harry seemed so alone, so engulfed by the blackness of the night. They hadn't said much on the train ride to the small village. Harry, Ron and Hermione had made their plans at Hogwarts, filling Jordan in on the details she didn't yet know.

Ron and Hermione were going to find Snape, try to convince him he was being duped by Lord Voldemort in the hopes that he would help them instead. Hermione was sure that Snape was a not-so-innocent pawn in one of the most ruthless games of Wizard's Chess. Ron hadn't felt so confident. Like Harry, or perhaps _because_ of Harry, Ron didn't trust Professor Snape and didn't know if he ever could. But he followed his girlfriend and believed in her—in anything that might help save his best friend.

Jordan and Harry were going in search of the only missing horcrux. This would be their bargaining chip. Perhaps Jordan wouldn't have to die if they found it and brought it to Voldemort. Their end of the deal would be complete. Something told Harry it was in his old house.

"Mum, Dad…this isn't how I reckoned my life would be." Harry knelt next to the headstones. The night was cold, but he didn't care. "Here I am, back in this place, where you both died, and I truly don't know what to do."

He sighed and looked at the clear sky. What month was it? September? He should have been in Hogwarts, enjoying the last year of school—applying for Auror positions at the Ministry of Magic, maybe even trying out for national Quidditch teams. He was a damn good Seeker! Instead, he was on a losing mission, a suicidal pact between him and a demented wizard who hated his own father.

"Harry…" Jordan called lightly. "Come on. We need to get inside while it's still dark."

He stood, brushing the dirt from the knees of his jeans. "I'm coming."

"Are you okay?" Jordan asked him, as he stood next to her, silently, almost menacingly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's strange being here, that's all. I knew I was going to return here someday. I wanted to see where they died, but it's still strange."

Jordan stayed silent. She looked at their home. It was a white, gabled house, with three floors. It was surrounded by a fence, and the yard had become brown, and covered with dead grass. No one had lived there in over a decade. The townsfolk said the house was haunted, and Jordan knew it probably was. She believed in things like that now, legends and tales she never would have believed in only a few months ago.

This time, she took _his_ hand. "Let's go in."

He smiled. "Alright."

Checking both ways to make sure they weren't being watched, he led Jordan through the creaking gate and up to the house. He took out his wand and waved it at the door.

"Alohamora!" he whispered. A click could be heard and the door swung open, moaning from years of neglect.

They climbed the two stone steps and entered the dark room. Jordan waved her hand and said, "Lumos!" and a blue light surrounded them.

"How come you don't have to use a wand?" Harry asked, in a harried whisper.

"What?"

"I don't understand how you can do magic without a wand."

"I don't know—I didn't know I could do magic at all, Harry."

He nodded. That was true. Dumbledore didn't need to use a wand, although Voldemort had revealed he did need one. Jordan had moved forward into the empty kitchen. It was freezing and she hugged herself for warmth.

"There will be nothing down here. Let's go upstairs." He said, motioning toward the dusty staircase.

She followed him up and the floor creaked terribly at the second landing. "Harry?" Jordan asked as they reached the hallway that connected the upstairs bedrooms. "I thought you said that the house was destroyed when Hagrid found you."

"It was, or so they tell me. According to what Hermione read, someone had it rebuilt. She couldn't get any information on who the owner was, but it was only a year or two before it was empty again. I suppose we're taking a chance on how similar the two houses are."

"Do you feel anything strange yet?"

He shook his head. They walked into what looked to be the master bedroom. It was large with hardwood floors and two closets. At the back end was another small hallway Harry guessed led to a master bathroom. "No, I don't feel anything. Let's keep looking."

Jordan reached the small room first. It looked like it could be a den or office. To the left of it was another larger bedroom and in between was another bath. Harry came into the room behind her, brushing a large cobweb out of the way. A wave of pain hit him. He grabbed his forehead, pressing his hand onto his scar.

"Harry! What is it?" Jordan reached over to him, but her touch only made it worse.

"Don't—touch—me!"

"I forgot! Leave the room, Harry! Quickly!"

He backed out, bumping in the doorjamb, tripping over his own feet in his haste. Finally, the pain subsided, leaving a dull ache in its wake. "I—think that was my room."

"This is where it happened?"

His eyes watered as he nodded, and he felt slightly dizzy. "That window, I think that's where he killed my mother. My crib was in the middle of that wall. I don't know for sure, it's all this hazy green light in my mind."

"If the pain's that severe, the horcrux is probably in here, don't you think?"

"How am I going to find it if I can't even go in there?"

"I'll look for you." Jordan started opening the closet, feeling along the wall for any item that could have been the depositor for Voldemort's soul, a frame, a mirror, but the room was empty, completely and devastatingly empty. Then it hit her.

"Oh, no, Harry…no…"

"What?"

------

Ron and Hermione slowly made their way down a narrow street in Northern England. Spinner's End was filled with grimy rowhouses, some with clotheslines stretching across to the other side. Darkness made the place even more depressing and Hermione hung on to Ron's arm for dear life.

"What's the matter?" He whispered, trying to shake her off in order to regain feeling in the arm. "There's no one out here."

"I don't know…I just have a bad feeling about this."

"It was your idea!"

She shook her head, "I know. It will work, but this place…"

"It's where Snape lives in the summers, and hopefully, he's here now, since school didn't start and if he's not with You-Know-Who."

"Okay, this is it, I think."

The pair stood in front of a house with one dim candle flickering inside. It was silent except for a distant sound of a dog barking. "Ready?" Ron asked.

"How do you suppose Harry and Jordan are doing?"

"Dunno. Hopefully, they've found the horcrux, eh?"

Hermione nodded and then knocked on the door in front of her. They heard shuffling inside and then the door opened quickly. Both started when they saw a severe-looking Snape, dressed in his familiar black robes in front of them.

"What do you want?"

"We need to talk with you, Professor."

"Oh, you do, do you? What could you possibly have to say to me, Miss Granger? We were all there, you know what you saw. I have nothing to say, nor anything for which to be regretful." He began to shut the door.

"Please, Professor Snape. We know you have been loyal to the Order of the Phoenix. We know you must have a reason for what you're doing. Please let us in so we can talk to you."

One eyebrow went up on Snape's face. He looked at both of them, begging him to let them inside his small house. He sighed, opened the door wider and gestured for them to come in.

The room was shrouded in blackness. The lone candle they could see from the street sat on an end table, near a worn chair. Near the candle was a book on Occlumency that he must have been reading. Snape was not sloppy, but there was no sign of luxuries in his presence. Everything was worn nearly to extinction: the rugs, the sofa, the books, even the candlestick was barely a nub in its holder.

Ron looked around, mouth open, aghast at the conditions Snape lived in. It was dark and dreary, even a little mean, just like Snape. Doubt twisted in the pit of his stomach. This wouldn't work.

"Mr. Weasley, please try to control yourself," Snape crossed his arms. "What do you want?"

"Professor, we think you're being used by Lord Voldemort!" Hermione tried not to rush but was afraid if she didn't blurt it out, she would never do it.

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK HIS NAME TO ME THAT WAY!" Snape bellowed, causing both young people to jump.

Ron instinctively stood in front of Hermione, one protective arm outstretched. "Sir, we are here only to warn you."

Snape took a deep breath and spoke quietly, "You both are completely ridiculous, and as usual, you haven't taken the time to check into your facts. Why would the Dark Lord be 'using' me, as you say?"

"To get to Harry." Hermione said, anxiously.

"Yes, that is the entire point of the exercise, Miss Granger. My master is looking for Harry Potter. We, as his faithful servants, have been instructed to find him and deliver him. That is what we've done. Now it's up to Mr. Potter. I believe he is almost out of time."

Ron closed his eyes tightly so Snape wouldn't be able to detect the notion of the Time Turner, and then looked at the Potions teacher, "But we think that once this is done and Harry is by his side, he will discard you, kill you even."

"And you're here to help me?" He said it as if it was the craziest notion.

Hermione stood tall, "Y-yes, sir."

Snape sat on the worn sofa, folded his hands and looked as patiently, as kindly as he could at the two nervous souls in front of him. "The thought has crossed my mind as well. Go on…"

Hermione took great pains to explain her theory of the horcruxes and how they needed Snape's help to prevent Jordan from being killed and Harry from becoming another one of Voldemort's pawns. She also told Professor Snape she knew he had a kind heart and had witnessed it many times where Harry was concerned, even though the Death Eater had tried to hide his actions on many occasions by being nasty to Harry.

"You are a brilliant wizard, and it would be a shame to lose both you and Harry to the Dark Lord. You, after all, are also one of the key members of the Order of the Phoenix and with Dumbledore gone…"

He got to his feet, "You think I would be the one to take Dumbledore's place—even after I killed him?"

"You killed him because you were ordered to…" Ron finally spoke.

"Yes, that is true. But I also have orders to kill whoever gets in the way of my directive. That could be you two."

"I don't think you will, Professor." Hermione hoped she was right. He could turn at a moment's notice and she knew it. But Harry was worth dying for; Ron would agree.

"You are very sure of yourself, young lady. I could wave my hand and snap your neck. You know that, don't you?"

Ron moved toward him, "You'd have to kill me first, Snape!"

The Death Eater snickered, "You have no power that would match mine, Mr. Weasley. You barely have any power at all. But your courage is admirable. The Sorting Hat did well putting you in Gryffindor House. You'd have never lasted in Slytherin; you don't have the soul. Now, what exactly is Mr. Potter up to and how can I help him, as you say?"

"He's finding the final horcrux."

"Oh, he is? I suppose he thinks he can use that as leverage—saying he can even locate it. He's not doing a very good job of it, is he?"

"He thinks he can at least save Jordan."

"Smitten with that one, isn't he?"

Neither Ron nor Hermione said anything. It was odd having so casual a conversation with Snape. It was probably the most either of them had said to him in the six years they knew him. Hermione felt that was a good sign.

"The Dark Lord has turned on other Death Eaters, hasn't he?"

"What do you know of it?" Snape hissed.

"We've heard stories." Ron said, indignantly. "We know he has killed some of his own…"

"Only to gain strength. He has power now—more power than you can imagine."

"Are you certain that he won't kill you in favor of Harry?"

"Miss Granger, I would never be so arrogant to say the Dark Lord would do this or do that, but I have been privy to his plans for many years. It is quite possible that my path may go in a different direction after Harry has joined up with him, but I don't believe he plans to kill me. I am one of his most trusted servants."

"So you've said…" Ron muttered.

"You could help McGonagall run Hogwarts—re-open the school. You could teach whatever classes you like!" Hermione was pleading with him.

"Do you think I care about the school? Do you think I planned on becoming a teacher all my life? No! I was only at Hogwarts for one reason!"

Ron and Hermione backed up as the former instructor became riled again.

"I was there to spy on Dumbledore, to keep my eye on Harry Potter and to train Draco Malfoy. That is all."

"But you were helping Professor Dumbledore as well—and you helped Harry—a lot."

"Yes, yes, I did." Snape sounded defeated.

"Can you help us now?" Hermione asked, sitting in front of him.

Snape looked up, said nothing and waited for her to continue.

"Harry is at Godric's Hollow. He will bring the horcrux he finds to Lord Voldemort. When they are together, we need to destroy the horcrux. You know how to do that, don't you? You know how to siphon the Ravenclaw horcux out of Jordan as well, right? We need you to help us do that so Voldemort will be weakened."

Hermione took a deep breath, waited for the explosion that was sure to come. Had she pushed it too far? Had she asked him something that might require him to kill her on the spot? But nothing happened. Snape said nothing; took no action, merely sat and continued listening. Ron looked at Hermione and she at him. Hermione smiled. They may have done it. The planned may have worked!

------

Harry felt slightly better but was thoroughly worried by the look on Jordan's face. She had moved out of the nursery and had taken his hand. She led him downstairs and outside. It had grown steadily colder but neither of them felt it.

"What's going on?" Harry demanded.

Jordan sat on a bench at the outskirts of the cemetery. She shivered, but not from the temperature. "Harry, what did you tell me the Sorting Hat said about being in the wrong house?"

"Erm—that he thought I should be in Slytherin, but he still put me in Gryffindor…what does that have…?"

"And Dumbledore, what did he say?"

"Why am I saying this again? We're wasting time! Dumbledore said that it depended on where I put myself. I reached for Gryffindor's sword and got it, so I must have believed I did belong in Gryffindor House. So, what does that matter now? You're running out of time, Jordan!"

She spoke calmly, "When the basilisk was attacking Muggles at Hogwarts, you said you thought you were descended from Slytherin because you could…"

"…I could talk to snakes. Where is this going?"

"Harry, you aren't the heir of Slytherin, I am the descendent of Ravenclaw, I doubt you have anything to do with Hufflepuff; that just leaves Gryffindor…" When it still didn't register with him, she continued. "Let's talk about the horcruxes. Dumbledore said that you destroyed the diary of Tom Riddle—that's one. You told me someone already got to the necklace the night Dumbledore was killed—that's two. Dumbledore thinks Nagini may be one—that's three. That leaves the houses, right? Hufflepuff—goblet, Slytherin—ring, Ravenclaw—me; there's no other horcrux, Harry…just me. He's sending you on a wild goose chase."

"NO!" Harry stood, his voice echoing in the night.

"Yes, Harry. There's nothing in that house, nothing to find, except you. It's empty, and was destroyed. I think I know who rebuilt it."

"Not Voldemort!"

"No, it was rebuilt by someone else who wanted to see you get a chance to visit here. Someone, other than Dumbledore who thought you had a right to know your destiny."

Harry thought about it a moment and wondered who that could be. The Dursleys were certainly out of the picture. Professor McGonagall knew a lot of what was happening but was never on the inside track. Rufus Scrimgeour, the relatively new Minister of Magic, was persuasive but Harry knew it was only for his own glory. His wanting Harry to lend his name and reputation to the Ministry had nothing to do with Harry's past, present or future happiness. That left Remus Lupin perhaps, or…

"Sirius?"

"I think so, Harry."

"But how? He was in hiding, then caught and sent to Azkaban. This house was rebuilt not long after my parents were killed." Harry was pacing, this new information causing his heart to race and the sweat to pool on the back of his neck. "I suppose he could have made arrangements for the house some other way—maybe with Lupin."

Harry stopped, and looked at Jordan, utter frustration and defeat in his face, "Jordan, I can't let this happen to you!"

"You have no choice. You'll just be one step closer to destroying him! To be quite honest I don't think Dumbledore was correct about Nagini. I don't think there is a sixth. I think I am the final one—and the strongest one."

"Killing you or destroying the horcrux within you will do him the most damage." Harry nodded, agreeing.

"And at the same time, I am the most necessary to him to bring him back to life if he needs it."

"But I don't understand …Why he would wait all these years?"

"I don't even know how many years it's been. I really don't know when this happened to me." Jordan stood and began walking away from the house.

Harry was reluctant to follow. Despite the pain from his scar and the ache in his heart, he still associated the house with the one true home, except for Hogwarts, he had ever known. Finally, he turned and caught up with her.

"It's the Prophecy that's confusing me."

"What prophecy?"

He stopped and turned to her, forgetting the only information she knew about this situation was what one of them had told her. It was hard to remember how short-lived their friendship had been. "A year ago, there was a fight in the Ministry of Magic. It was where my godfather was killed…"

Jordan shook her head. "I remember you telling me that."

"Well, there was a Prophecy kept there—in a vault—that had to do with me and Voldemort. In it was revealed that neither Voldemort…"

"…or you would survive unless the other died. Yes, Hermione said that."

"Maybe I just interpreted it wrong. It didn't say I had to kill anyone else, you know?"

"There's an inn down the road here. And it's Wednesday, so we should find a room. Let's go inside, I'm freezing."

With a skeptical look from the matronly innkeeper as to what these two young people were doing checking into a motel on a Wednesday night, Harry and Jordan received their key and went to room #27.

Inside were two beds on the far wall. The wallpaper was a light pink floral and quaint oak beams were visible above them. Harry sat heavily in the wooden desk chair in the corner. Jordan looked down at the floor with its thin gray and light blue flowered rug. It was going to be a long night.

"How were you going to stay in contact with Ron and Hermione?"

"We are supposed to meet back at Hogwarts tomorrow morning, whether we've accomplished our goal or not. Tomorrow's it, Jordan, even with the Time Turner."

"I know. But I think we're ready to go back. There's nothing more we can do here, Harry."

"The question is what can I do there?" But then Harry knew the one way to solve the problems lying before him. He had spoken to Ron about it already, and it still seemed the most logical thing to do.

"Harry?" Jordan saw him leave her for a moment, his mind wandering off someplace that was too complicated for her to want to go.

"Jordan," he looked up at her. "Listen to me. When we see Voldemort again, you must let me do what I have to."

"What?"

"Don't try to stop me. You'll only get yourself hurt."

A strange feeling went through Jordan just then. Harry had a plan and it didn't involve her at all. He had decided something with a severity and finality she couldn't understand, except she knew it meant life or death—most likely his. Her stomach turned.

"What are you going to do?"

"I can't tell you right now because I don't have everything worked out. But I don't have any other choice."

She moved to the window quickly. She didn't like what had happened to her life. There hadn't been time to do things she wanted to do. Half her life had been spent trying to make ends meet, getting college loans paid off and writing. She was only in her twenties and her time could be up. She hadn't married, had children, travelled the world. Jordan could have even waited for Harry to get older—he had, after all, already grown up.

"Are you alright?" He stood behind her at the window.

She could see their reflection. "I guess coming to Godric's Hollow is a bit strange for me too."

"I remember my first year at Hogwarts. I was only 11, and very innocent in the ways of the world. The only place I'd ever been was Little Whinging and that was stuck under the staircase, in this dusty, spider-filled closet. Once the letter came that I was a wizard and that I would be going away to a school where I would live, I had never felt such excitement, nor was I ever so scared."

Jordan turned to face him, her heart heavy, feeling very tired and sad.

"And I sat in my classes, learning spells: how to lift a feather, or to make a potion or to turn one liquid into another, it was surreal. Sometimes, it didn't even feel like it was me, regular, old Harry Potter. I wasn't great when I was in regular school and I wasn't even a great student at Hogwarts. The only thing I've been really good at is flying and defending against wizards who use Dark Arts."

"Like Snape and Voldemort…"

"Yes. But I really did become someone there—and Dumbledore was right. I had a lot to do with who I became. The rumors, the stories about what had happened to me, that I was famous, it made me try a little harder, I guess. It is true I defeated Voldemort more than once, but I had lots of help. You've even helped me, Jordan. I'm not that special and I certainly don't feel like 'The Chosen One.'"

"But you are. You know it could be the other way around. You may have attracted people like Hermione and Dumbledore and the others whose destiny it was to aid you in your quest—the same as it was with you attracting me by sitting each day in the park."

"What I'm trying to say, Jordan is that I know how you feel. I know what it's like to be a certain person one minute and then someone totally different the next. I'm sorry that it had to be because of me that you lost your normal life, but I can't change what Voldemort did to you. I can only change what happens to you now."

Jordan nodded. They were near the end. This would all be over soon and they both might soon die. There didn't seem to be much point in pretending anymore, in worrying what society would say. So she kissed him. Harry's arms went around her and he returned the kiss, never feeling as proud of both of them as he did at that moment.


	7. Chapter 15FINAL CHAPTER

Chapter Fifteen

The Deception of the Prince

It was eerily quiet; no noise, not even an echo, not even the sound of their own breathing interrupted the stillness in the room that housed the Mirror of Erised.

"Don't tell me Potter and his girlfriend went to the wrong place," Snape said, bitterly.

"I'm sure they'll be here any moment," Hermione intercepted, almost too quickly.

Ron stood by, watching, waiting for the moment that Snape would turn on them. It had been nothing short of a miracle for Hermione, but Ron felt a trap. He had been with Harry through enough of them to smell one a mile away, but Hermione was sure that she had somehow got through to the Death Eater andformer Order of the Phoenix member.

"So, Snape," hissed a powerful voice from above. "Did you bring an audience with you to witness the final act of this performance?"

"Yes, Master," Snape replied, obediently.

Hermione looked at him, but Snape didn't return her gaze. Instead, he whispered, "Don't worry so much, Miss Granger."

A loud CRACK reverberated in the room and Harry, with Jordan clutching his arm, appeared in the corner. Harry looked at Ron, whose eyes were dark and foreboding. Hermione smiled, genuinely glad to see them and Harry gave her a small smile in return. He was surprised to see Snape, not ever really believing Hermione would be able to do what she set out to, but her mission had given Harry the time he needed to put his affairs in order.

"Snape," Harry said, coldly.

"Potter. Welcome back," The Defense against the Dark Arts teacher acted as though Jordan wasn't even there.

"Are you ready to complete your journey?" Voldemort's voice echoed in the nearly empty room.

"Are you going watch from your hiding place, like the coward you are?" Harry craned his neck to find eyes into which he could spit his words. He contented himself with a light that dominated the center of the room.

"AARGHH!" Jordan doubled over, pain gripping her insides like a vice. She dropped to her knees.

"Watch yourself!" Voldemort said. "Don't make this more difficult that it has to be."

"Leave her alone! I have what you want."

"Do you?"

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione. He knew he never said goodbye properly and was sorry for it, but they would understand. They were his family, the best friends he would ever know. Then he looked at Snape who waved his wand at Jordan to make her pain subside; she lay panting on the floor.

"Snape…," Voldemort commanded.

Harry felt an odd sensation in his head, then realized Snape was using Legilimency on him. He tried with all his might to close off his mind. This was always one of the most difficult skills for him to master, but he had to some extent during the torturous lessons Snape had given him on Dumbledore's orders.

Hermione saw Snape stiffen and suddenly felt the plan going awry. She looked imploringly at Harry as if to ask what was going on. Harry said nothing, but bent down and helped Jordan to her feet. He then pushed her gently toward Ron. Ron took her hand and squeezed it tightly.

"I want to become a Death Eater," Harry said, moving toward the light in the center of the room. "I want to join you."

Hermione gasped and put her hand to her mouth. Ron's grip on Jordan's hand became tighter as well. Voldemort laughed. The noise of it reverberated in the room.

Harry looked around. He didn't know the Dark Lord's exact position and it unnerved him, "Jordan is more use to you alive--you know that--and I am what you want. You said so in the beginning."

"Yes, imagine the power you will have…and that is how I want you, strong but only at my command. _Impedimenta!_"

Harry was off his feet and flying out of control until he smashed into the mirror. He heard the glass crack as he hit the floor. He could hear Jordan's scream and as he struggled to his knees, he saw his own jagged reflection. Voldemort was now behind him. As he continued to look into the mirror, he realized his own face was changing. Soon, he looked at the reflection of something hideous, with eyes like a snake's and skin as taut as tooled leather. His hands instinctively went to his face.

"Stop this!" Snape yelled. "Stop this now!"

Everyone looked in Snape's direction; a slight smile coming to Hermione's face, but shock registering on Ron's and Harry's.

"Servant, how dare you speak to me that way!" Voldemort bellowed. "You have turned into the others, worthless to me. Useless!"

Suddenly, the former Potions teacher howled as he, too, was thrown. He hit the wall and fell to the stairs near Hermione and Ron. Hermione knelt next to him and with difficulty, turned him onto his back. His eyes were closed and he was bleeding heavily from a cut on his forehead.

"Harry Potter, you must prove that you are with me; that you won't betray me as so many others have."

Harry turned to the being standing behind him. He didn't know what his face looked like, but it felt different. It terrified him as nothing else had. The look on Jordan's face was enough; however, he knew he was turning into something evil, out of his own control.

"What am I to do?"

"Retrieve the horcrux from her, of course!"

Harry watched in horror. It wasn't supposed to go this way. He was supposed to offer himself and Voldemort would realize this was his chance to kill _him_, not Jordan. But he had to play along. He had to gain Voldemort's trust. With a flick of his wand, Harry pulled Jordan toward him. With another swish, Ron's legs moved on their own accord.

"No!" Hermione cried, "No!"

"Hold her!" Harry instructed Ron.

Jordan felt Ron trembling as he stood near her and held her arms down by her side. "I'm sorry…," he whispered.

"It's alright. There's nothing we can do."

"I—don't—know—how," Harry said, quietly.

"What are you mumbling, boy!"

"I said I don't know how! I want to—serve you, but I don't know how to do this!"

"But you do…," came Snape's voice from the corner. "The Half-Blood Prince told you how."

Hermione moved away as if poisoned just to be near the Death Eater. He would betray them all just to stay in the good graces of Lord Voldemort. Snape got to his feet, straightened his robes and walked toward the cluster of people, wiping blood from his head.

"No…," Harry whispered.

"Yes, it's simple. Point your wand at her heart," Snape took his own wand out to demonstrate. "And you say…," Snape suddenly whirled on Voldemort, wand high, "_Avada Kedav…_"

"_PROTEGO!_" Voldemort bellowed and then pointed his own wand at Snape, who burst into a pillar of flames.

Hermione covered her eyes as Snape screamed in agony. With a flash of green, he was gone. No one made a sound. Harry could hear his own breathing and wondered if he saw what he thought he had. _Was Snape dead?_ Could someone be killed without an Unforgivable Curse? Could you kill someone non-verbally? _Was Snape dead?_

"Continue, Potter…," Voldemort said, quietly.

Trying with all his might to steady his hand, he moved to Jordan and put his wand out. "My face…," he said, quietly, as if confiding a secret.

"What's wrong?" she asked him. "Just do this!"

"Am I…am I like him?"

She smiled, grimly, "No, Harry. You're not."

"I tried, Jordan. I'm sorry."

Jordan took a deep breath, feeling surprisingly collected. "You should have done this well before now."

"Never!" Harry wracked his brain to think of a spell the Half-Blood Prince, actually Snape himself, had included in his _Advanced Potion-Making_ book the year before. Notes had been scribbled in the margins, under actual potions recipes, in the index…one of them had to work now.

"Get on with it, Potter or I will begin to kill your friends."

Harry looked over his shoulder and saw Voldemort casually holding his wand at Hermione's head. He looked back to Jordan and Ron had his eyes closed, as if hoping the scene in front of him was only a nightmare.

"I won't let him kill her, mate," Harry said, with false confidence.

"Don't worry about us, Harry. Just get this over with."

He pressed the point of his wand at the center of Jordan's heart. She felt a tingling sensation and moved slightly to get away from it. Ron instinctively held her tighter.

"Jordan, remember, you don't need a wand…we need to work at the same time."

"What? I can't…I…"

"POTTER!"

Hermione screamed and crumpled to the ground. Ron went to let Jordan go and felt paralyzed. His hands wouldn't release her and his legs were hexed to the floor.

"Harry, do this!"

"Jordan," Harry prodded, remembering something that just might be successful. "Trust me!" He closed his eyes and said, "_Sugere Anima..._"

Jordan felt as though she were having a heart attack. The burning in her chest grew worse by tenfold. The pain sliced through her from front to back. Tears slid down her face and she knew she would fall if Ron didn't hold her.

"Jordan, now you," Harry said. "Close your eyes!"

Using every ounce of strength she could muster, she imagined the soul of the madman leaving her and silently repeated Harry's incantation.

"What are you doing?" The Dark Lord floated over to them, effortlessly. "Potter, I asked what you are doing?"

"I'm—removing the—horcrux, Master, just as you asked."

"Do you think you can fool me, boy? Do you think I can't tell that she is doing something as well?"

Jordan smiled through her tears. The pain was beginning to subside. It was almost over. She wasn't going to die after all.

"NO!" Voldemort aimed his wand at Jordan and lifted her in the air. Her legs moved convulsively, as if she was treading water. Ron grabbed at her, but couldn't reach her.

"Put it back!" the Dark Lord cried.

"Never!" she yelled, as an orb of white light hovered above their heads. "Never!"

Harry felt himself weakening, and knew he must act fast. When Voldemort became distracted by Ron running to Hermione, he flicked his wand at the light, "_Finite Incantatem!_"

The orb exploded overhead. Everyone covered their eyes to avoid the fallout and Voldemort wailed in anger. The Dark Lord's spell was interrupted and Jordan dropped to the floor.

"_I will kill you, Potter!"_ Voldemort's voice faded even as he spoke. His body was convulsing as fast as the bright lights disappeared. "_Mind you that! It is not over. The prophecy will be fulfilled!"_

With a POP, the room became dark as before a winter storm, and Voldemort was gone.

Harry ran to Jordan, "Are you alright?"

"I think so…are you?"

"Yes. Ron, how's Hermione?"

"Still unconscious, but I don't think she's hurt. What just happened?"

"I think we destroyed the horcrux," He watched Jordan stand and brush herself off. "It must have temporarily weakened him. I guess we have a little more time."

Hermione stirred and they all went to her. She held her head, which pounded, but smiled, "I'm alright. He only Stupified me. Did you do it, Harry?"

Harry nodded, still surprised. Jordan went to him, feeling such a sense of relief she wanted to cry. Without thinking, she kissed him, just as long and hard as she had at the inn the night before.

"Thank you…," she said, after.

"Blimey…" Ron muttered, at the sight of the two of them.

Hermione laughed, and then looked around, "I can't believe Snape is dead."

"Is he?" Harry asked, still reeling over Jordan's kiss, which disarmed him more than the fight with Voldemort had. "I didn't think Unforgivable Curses were effective if they aren't spoken."

"He couldn't have survived that, Harry," Hermione said, in an awed whisper. "No one could. But he did help us. He helped in order to save you, Harry."

"I know," Harry felt guilt wash over him.

"What now?" Ron asked.

"I want to go home."

They all looked at Jordan, who was smiling. Harry was disappointed but understood. He shook his head and moved toward the door.

"Harry," Jordan continued. "Unless you have somewhere else you'd rather be; my offer is still open."

He could feel Ron and Hermione's stares on him and was too shocked to speak for a moment, "Really?"

"Yes…if you want to. But on one condition…"

"What's that?"

"Finish school, Harry. Graduate from Hogwarts. All of you."

---------

Jordan sat at the kitchen table at her mother's house with her best friend, Heather. Things had returned to normal in an astonishing amount of time. Harry had learned from Hermione the proper use of a Memory Modification Charm and Jordan allowed him to adjust her mother's remembrance of the Ravenclaw conversation. She would save it for another day, another time when the ending wasn't so final.

"So, is he going to stay here?" Heather sipped tea and asked Jordan, quietly.

Jordan's hair was pulled back and she wore a comfortable sweatshirt and pants. Her body was still sore from everything that happened and covering herself up was the only way to avoid talking about how she looked.

"No, he's going back to school in England."

"What are _you_ going to do?"

"I have another book tour to go on. Well, it's really the end of the last one. Then I'll come here and wait for his school break."

Heather stood and peered into the hallway to make sure Harry wasn't within hearing distance, "He's just a kid. I mean, he's certainly cute but why is he living with you?"

"Because he's got nowhere else to go," Jordan closed her eyes, grateful she had her life back and no one else needed to know about Voldemort and the Death Eaters and why Harry Potter and Jordan Taylor were connected. "Once he graduates, if he wants to live on his own, he certainly can…"

"What are you talking about?" Harry came in and feeling completely comfortable now, took a Coke out of the refrigerator.

Heather sat up quickly, putting her flyaway blonde hair behind her ears, "Nothing. Are you ready to go back to school?"

Taking a sip, he nodded, "Oh, yeah. We're starting a little late, but we're going to shorten our winter holidays to make up for it. It's a great school, isn't it, Jordan?"

Jordan shook her head, acting as if her visit there had been an enjoyable time. Heather grabbed her purse and let Jordan lead her to the door. Harry trailed behind them.

"Well, Harry, good luck at school." Heather didn't completely understand why the school year was beginning in late October at this academy, nor did she understand why her best friend wanted to take in a boy she had only just met on one of her trips, but Jordan seemed content, so she left it alone.

"Thanks!"

Heather hugged Jordan, "And have fun on your trip. Call me when you get home."

As Jordan watched Heather leave, Harry came up and put his arm around her. "She doesn't like me, I reckon."

"She likes you fine…"

"I'll bet you a game of _Magic: The Gathering_ that I'm right."

She turned to him, laughing as she hadn't in weeks, "You're on!"

Harry took the stairs to Becky's house two at a time, Jordan close at his heels. Things would be okay. Her worlds, both of them, would somehow peaceably interact. She might be a witch and she might suddenly have a wizard in her life, but for now, she was home and safe—all of the Ravenclaws were.


End file.
